


All That Time I Loved You

by luvofmylonglife



Series: All That Time I Loved You [2]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23721796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvofmylonglife/pseuds/luvofmylonglife
Summary: Jamie Fraser is running away from home after his mother's death when he meets a faerie on the moor. At least, he thinks she’s a faerie after watching her walk through stone and evaporate into thin air! 8 years later he comes face to face with his faerie again when he is fostering with his uncles at Castle Leoch, but now she's all grown up and ready to reveal her secrets. Claire comes from a family of time travelers based in the 22nd century. She never expected to fall for a boy on one of her research operations, but something about James Fraser is different. Will their love stand the test of time?
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Series: All That Time I Loved You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1847467
Comments: 534
Kudos: 569
Collections: Fics to Live For (In BrytteM's Opinion)





	1. June 21, 1729

[ ](https://ibb.co/7bQYVQK)

_June 21, 1729_

The first time Jamie saw her, he was eight years old and running away from home. He had taken his pony and ridden from Lallybroch the morning after his Mam died; sadness welling up in his small chest like a black fog covering the moor. He had already lost Willie—his older brother—just a few years before, and the months of grief that followed were the darkest of his young life. He could not stand to face more endless days of silence in that house where she would never laugh or sing again, where the little brother he had longed for would never play. So, he left.

The first night he spent on the moor, lying awake with his attention split between fear and grief. It was much different than the camping he did with Da or with his best friend Ian. Jamie had decided to go live with his father’s cousin Jared in France, and he knew there were many lonely nights ahead of him. He carefully broke camp in the morning, kicked dirt over the remains of his fire, and packed the pony with his few belongings. He was just getting ready to mount up when a rustling in the brush nearby made him catch his breath.

“Da?” He had been half expecting his father to come after him and the relief that flooded his chest made him wonder momentarily if he was truly committed to the idea of France. But then, through the bracken, the sun shone on what looked like water rippling down a burn. It moved and there was a pale face beneath the flowing current, no—they were curls. A girl slowly rose to her feet, slim and straight, her hair a riot of satin ringlets.

Her eyes were like a bird, yellow and intense. Jamie squirmed under their scrutiny, disconcerted by her sudden appearance and steady gaze that seemed to pierce his chest.

“Hello,” the bird-girl spoke softly. Her voice was low and musical, joining in the chorus of the morning around them. She seemed such a natural part of it, like she grew out of the heather reaching for the sky and singing like a chaffinch in the spring.

“Are ye a faerie?”

He was serious, coming to the only conclusion that made sense of the evidence before him, but the girl burst into laughter. He found his lips twitching at the corners. It wasn’t a mean sound. It was light that seemed to echo and swell in his chest, pushing the darkness out in its wake.

Jamie smiled fully at her then, and the bird-girl smiled back. Her eyes had stopped their piercing stare and turned a bright amber color. She moved toward him carefully, picking her way through the thick underbrush. It took Jamie a moment to realize she was wearing breeks like a boy, and he had to blink several times before he realized he was staring at her legs. He had in fact never seen a woman’s legs, and he flushed with embarrassment unsure of where to look.

“Actually,” she studied him, considering, “You were right, I am a faerie.” She was probably six inches taller than him, with her big eyes set in a narrow face just losing the last vestiges of childhood. Jamie felt a shiver of fear down his spine when she admitted to being of the faerie folk, but he bravely drew up to his full height and asked the question most pressing in his mind. 

“Do you live in a _dùn_?” 

“Ha bloody ha. No, I don’t.” She held out her hand like a man, as if she expected him to clasp it. “My name is Claire Beauchamp, what’s yours?” Jamie hesitated to touch her, but decided it would be rude to refuse. He grasped her fingers in his own and gave her his best bow, raising them to his lips.

“I am James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser.”

Her laughter bubbled over again and he grasped at the joy falling from her lips. He had never thought to feel joy again. Mam told him stories of faeries and old ones, but he hadn’t expected to ever really see one. She filled his senses, leaving no room for sorrow and making him forget the grief that had clouded his mind all night.

“Well, James Alexander something or other Fraser. Can you answer me a silly question? Would you mind telling me what year it is?”

“What year?” Jamie cocked his head to the side in confusion, but maybe faeries didn’t keep track of things like that. 

“It is seventeen hundred twenty nine.”

She blanched. “Oh is it? Shit.”

This time Jamie’s jaw dropped.

“I’m sorry for my language,” she said, noting his shock. “I need your help to… get back to my people. Do you know the way to Craigh na Dun?”

“The faerie hill? Aye. Are ye lost, then?” Did faeries get lost? Her curls brushed her cheeks, fluttering in the breeze and reminding him again of water sparkling in the sun. Jenny would want to hear all about her, and he carefully took mental note of her appearance so he would be able to describe her to his sister. He’d have to remember to tell her that faerie women folk wore breeks.

“Yes, I’m lost.” She sounded cross and she folded her arms across her chest. “I’ve gotten myself turned around and I’d greatly appreciate your assistance. My family will be missing me.”

Jamie cataloged “easily lost” to his mental list of faerie facts. That wasn’t one he had heard before.

“I can take ye to the hill. It’s no’ so far from here.” He was rewarded with a smile that pulled his own lips up to answer it. “Come,” he turned to mount his sturdy pony and reached a hand down to her. She swung up behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle, making Jamie shift in his seat and speak sternly to himself about how to properly think of a lady, faerie or no.

They spent the next few hours riding hard, slowing occasionally to give the pony a breather or climbing off to pick their way up the rugged terrain. Jamie found himself trying to make her laugh, telling her stories and cracking jokes. Each time he nudged them into a canter her arms tightened around him and she would let out a squeak and a giggle, thrilled with the speed.

He stopped beside a bubbling stream around midday to give the pony a drink and let them eat. It would be another hour at most to the hill and he was reluctant to part with the faerie so soon.

They sat companionably on a fallen log. He passed her a hunk of bread and she rummaged in her pack to give him an apple. They munched in silence for some time, enjoying the change of position and pace. 

“Jamie,” the faerie girl started speaking around her last mouthful of apple, “where were you going when I found you?”

He realized with a pang that it had been hours since he last thought of Mam, and suddenly it felt like he had betrayed her memory with his carefree adventure. He hesitated to answer, unsure if he could talk about his Mam without crying like a wean.

“I ken ye’ll know if I tell ye a lie,” he finally said, and then caught her confused expression. “Faeries dinna take kindly to being told a lie... unless that’s just a tale my Da spun to keep me honest?” He peered at her face, watching the thoughts cross it like reading a book.

He hadn’t realized, with her riding behind him all this time, how expressive her face really was. There was amusement, speculation, and a hint of mischief. “Are ye really a faerie?” he felt doubt pass through him like a shadow. She had felt solid enough, she looked human at the moment.

“I do have some magic,” she smiled, “but you don’t need to tell me where you were going if you don’t want to.”

“I was running away,” it was out of his mouth before he had time to consider it, to decide if he wanted her to know. “My Mam died…” his voice broke and he paused to clear his throat. “She died. She was having a bairn and something went wrong and they both died.”

“Oh, Jamie.” 

He picked the crust off the last of his bread, squinting against the burn of tears in his eyes. “I couldna stay there, not for a moment longer.” He was startled when she scooted close and wrapped him in her arms, but after a beat he relaxed and let the tears come. She smelled like horse and sweat, but underneath it was herbs, like she washed herself in green things from the garden and took on their aroma. 

“I was so fashed, I didna even think till now that I left my Da and Jenny alone. It must be like I died too for them, and I ken I must go back but I canna face the house being quiet without her there.”

“Tell me about her.” Something in her voice opened his throat, and he began to tell her all about Mam and Willie and the happy days of his childhood at Lallybroch. She was just tall enough that his head could rest on her shoulder, and her slim arm around him reminded him so much of Jenny that he forgot to be shy. The long sleepless night caught up to him, and after a time he found himself drifting to sleep feeling very much at peace.

His last conscious thought was she really must have some kind of magic.

He woke a short time later curled beside her with his plaid tucked under his cheek. She was awake, her eyes calm and serene watching the forest around them as she waited for him to wake up.

“I’m sorry, mistress _,_ I didna realize...” he scrambled to his feet, flushing with embarrassment for falling asleep in the middle of the day like a wee lad. “No, it’s okay. I think you needed it.” She stood and stretched, packing things back in her satchel and straightening her clothes. Jamie went to tighten the girth on his pony so he could hide his face, and after a few minutes they mounted up again.

They arrived midafternoon. Jamie cobbled the pony at the base of the hill and turned to follow the faerie.

“You don’t need to come with me,” she turned her face toward the stones at the top of the hill, stark and white in the light of the sun filtering through the overcast sky. “I’ll be fine from here.”

“Well,” Jamie kicked a clump of grass at his feet, “I need to ken what faeries do on the faerie hill, if I’m to make Jenny believe I met ye.”

Her face suddenly turned serious, “You should go home, Jamie. Your father and sister will be missing you, and they need you right now. I don’t think you’ll ever forgive yourself if you really leave them without a word.”

He felt a rush of sorrow at the thought of Lallybroch, and chewed his bottom lip in frustration. The girl dipped her head a little to make him meet her eyes and she gave him a smile. “It’s got to be bad luck to ignore advice from a faerie, don’t you think?” 

She turned and started the trek up the hill and Jamie followed her, both were a little out of breath when they crested the top. He walked around the clearing with his hand on the little dirk his Da had made for him last Hogmanay, checking for danger and she watched with an amused expression on her face, but obediently stood still until he nodded that the coast was clear.

“It was nice to meet you, James Fraser.” She reached her hand out for his again. He shook it; then, because that felt so wrong, he bent over it and kissed her fingers.

Her laugh flowed over him, so much like his Mam’s who always radiated sweetness and joy wherever she went. His eyes filled at the thought of her, but then the faerie stepped in close to him, bent, and kissed his cheek.

“Maybe I’ll see you again,” she whispered. “And seriously, you should go be with your Da and Jenny.”

He nodded at her, and then stared with eyes the size of saucers as she walked straight toward the cleft in the center stone and disappeared into thin air.


	2. September 22, 2108

[ ](https://ibb.co/1z2gMhd)

_September 22, 2108_

“And you, my young Mr. Lincoln, will grow up to do great things.”

Claire smoothed the unruly black hair of the boy in the hospital bed. He was in a medically induced coma after the brain surgery her mother performed the previous morning, repairing damage done from being kicked in the head by a horse. Glancing at the monitors on the wall, she double checked his vitals and left little Abe to rest and heal.

The glass door whooshed open to let her out of the room and she reached automatically to sanitize her hands. It wasn’t uncommon for 20 year old Claire to pull the night shift at the private medical facility in Glenesk, Scotland. Colmeallie was headquarters for the Beauchamp family, and the facility could house 15 patients along with over 70 of the family if they ever needed to gather. 

They were miles from the nearest conveniences, but the property acreage included the dilapidated farm and stone circle in the fields behind the house. Years of careful work had removed the Colmeallie circle from most Wiki sites and internet search engines, and the high fences on the border of the private land did the rest of the work in keeping their private time portal from unwelcome guests.

Claire came from a long line of time travelers. The earliest records of the Beauchamp bloodline travelers were from an ancestor in Reims, France who traveled back in time to save his wife and son from dying of the plague in 1635, and even in his record it was clear that travel was not a new discovery. It wasn’t until centuries later that the family secret became the structured organization it was today.

“Good morning, darling,” the musical voice drifted down the long hall and made Claire perk up along with the strong bitter scent of coffee wafting from the travel mug that accompanied it. “Is that for me?” She leaned in to kiss her mother’s cheek and take the cup gratefully.

“I know it was a long night. Thank you for taking such good care of our patient.” Julia Beauchamp wrapped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and pulled her toward the conference room. “Come now, your father and uncle just got back and they want to see you.”

The two men were deep in a discussion about the maps and documents spread across the long table. They were about as different as brothers could be. Claire’s father Henry Beauchamp was tall with sandy brown hair cropped close to his head. His skin was tanned a deep gold from decades spent outdoors in all conditions, and he moved with the precision and grace of a warrior. Beside him stood his brother Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, or Lamb as he was called affectionately. He stood an inch shorter than his brother with a definite slouch to his shoulders and thick black glasses from so much time pouring over books and computer screens, and his beard was graying and in need of a trim.

Both men displayed the same wide smile at the sight of Julia and Claire.

“There are my girls!” Henry wrapped strong arms around his wife and daughter, filling Claire’s nose with the scent of pine and whiskey. He gave them a long squeeze before tweaking her curls and releasing her to greet her uncle. 

Claire leaned against Lamb’s side, watching her parents reconnect after two days apart. Her father had his wife wrapped tightly in his embrace and was tenderly kissing her and whispering in her ear. 

“Nauseating, isn’t it?” Lamb’s deep voice rumbled and Claire reprimanded him with a hip check.

“They’re cute, let them be.” She took a long sip of her coffee and turned to look at the papers they had been discussing.

“This is for the second Jacobite rising mission. I’ve been researching key players for the past few years, and we’ve identified a war chieftain from clan Mackenzie that appeared to be raising funds for Prince Charlie.” Lamb pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and pointed to his laptop screen. “We’ve been working to identify how early he started and if he had any help, so I’m digging into his history a bit here.”

Claire leaned down to read over her uncle’s notes. “It says his brother was the clan chief, why wouldn’t he also be the war chief?” She was familiar with Lamb’s research documentation and style, having spent much of her time as his research assistant through her teen years. It was only when she graduated and decided to follow her mother’s footsteps into medicine that she took a step back from compiling data for missions.

“Colum Mackenzie was the older brother, and he did hold the position of clan chief. But according to everything I can find he almost never left Castle Leoch. His brother Dougal is listed in all the documentation of rent collection, battles, raids, and everything else. I have one source that suggests Colum had a disease that kept him homebound and so he and his brother shared the responsibilities.”

“We know Dougal was setting aside some of the rents for the Stuarts,” Henry joined them at the table and showed Claire a small bound journal with meticulous record keeping of the Mackenzie clan rents and an entire section detailing how much was being set aside. “He ended up with tens of thousands of pounds for the Jacobite cause.”

“Seems like an interesting guy.” Claire picked up a binder of pages photocopied from what appeared to be the laird’s daily log from Castle Leoch. The men started discussing the possibilities of Colum Mackenzie’s illness with her mother, but she found herself absorbed in the words before her.

_August 22, 1737_

_The son of my estranged sister Ellen (may she rest in peace) has arrived with Dougal from Beannachd where he has been fostering and learning to wield a sword cock-handed from my brother. His hair is the same shade of red that Ellen’s was. When he arrived he bowed over my hand and gave me his full name, James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser. He’s a cheeky pup. He reminds me of her._

Claire didn’t comprehend anything else on the page, but in her mind she saw the small red headed boy who helped her find Craigh na Dun that day all those years ago. James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser, that was his name! She remembered the copper head bowing over her own hand. It had been her first real mission, and somehow the stones had dropped her in 1729 instead of 1715 where she and Lamb had planned to research the first Jacobite rising.

“...and we thought maybe Claire would like to go.”

She looked up to find all three adults looking at her.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Claire laid the binder down with the others and turned her attention back to the conversation.

“Lamb needs to compile this data and travel to Rome to get intel on the Stuarts, and I need to bring our patient back to his family in 1818,” Henry slid an arm around Julia’s shoulders again, pulling her close. “We need someone to get information about the Mackenzies. Specifically find out more about Colum’s medical condition and listen to the gossip that wouldn’t have made it into historic documents.”

“We thought with your medical knowledge you’d be the perfect candidate,” her uncle added. “And you’ve been cooped up here for a long time. You need some sun.”

“You’re one to talk,” Claire grinned at him affectionately. “It sounds fun. I’m in!”

It had been ages since she traveled, mostly because medicine was taking up so much of her interest. Claire had spent the past year and a half pouring over medical texts and dreaming of when she would finally be a doctor like her mother. Julia had married into the Beauchamp family and did not share the travel gene, though she tagged along occasionally as a passenger. But for Claire and every blood relation she knew, there was something addicting about the whirl of chaos and danger while passing through the fabric of time.

Research trips were rarely dangerous because they intentionally traveled to the years preceding the historic event they studied. In the 1700s it was common to pose as a drifter and seek shelter for a few weeks to observe and record data about the time period and persons of interest. 

Though the target of this trip would be the Mackenzie brothers, Claire’s mind was still on the boy. She had thought of him over the years, touched by his heart wrenching grief for his mother and the lost baby. The way he instantly assumed she was a faerie had been sweet--also very convenient considering she hadn’t taken any precautions to fit in with her speech or dress.

It would be fun to see him again. And in 1737 he would be around 16 years old, so probably much changed from the child she met so briefly that day. It was doubtful he would even remember her.

“The closest circle to Leoch is Clava Cairn,” Lamb had begun a file for her research trip, mapping out the route and listing objectives. “If you don’t mind a quick turnaround, we could take you out tomorrow and still catch the end of the equinox. Otherwise it would be best to wait for Samhain.” Traveling was possible all the time, but the journey was easiest on the change of seasons. Today was the autumnal equinox, giving them a few days’ window when travel would be quick and easy. Only their most experienced travelers and vital missions went through otherwise.

“I don’t mind,” Claire tipped back her cup to capture the last mouthful of coffee. “I can go get packed and rested up now.”

Giving her parents each a kiss, she headed down the hall toward her private quarters wondering how much Jamie Fraser had changed between 8 and 16.


	3. October 1, 1737

[ ](https://ibb.co/cC2Hpyr)

_  
October 1, 1737 _

James Fraser dove straight into the loch wearing nothing but his skin.

His arms cut through the water, pulling him further and further away from the shore where several young lassies were hiding in the brush giggling. He heard them a few moments too late, having already stripped to bathe, he had no choice but to abandon his sark and kilt while he made his escape into the relative safety of the loch.

When he stopped to look back, treading water, he saw them disappearing up the path. One lass looked back, her pale golden hair shining in the setting sun. Jamie shuddered. It was like being stalked by a pack of wolves. Ever since he arrived at Leoch they had been pestering him. None of them were much older than snot-nosed bairns, but were vying for his attention and growing bolder by the week. He did his best to ignore them, but irritation was starting to win out. 

Yesterday the blonde one had separated from the pack and pretended to twist her ankle when he was coming back from a training session with Dougal. She fell right in front of him, obliging him to help her up and carry her into the kitchen where Mrs. Fitz eyed her narrowly before shooing Jamie out the door.

He ducked his head in the water and then floated on his back, enjoying the coolness on his hot skin and sore muscles. It had been a nice change of scenery to come to Leoch after spending so long at Beannachd with Dougal’s family, but he was ready to go home to Lallybroch. 

It had been almost two years since he had seen his family, and the ache in his chest was starting to grow unbearable. Da and Jenny were all he had left; they had grown so close in the years since Willie and Mam passed. He didn't regret the time spent learning from Dougal, but it was time to go home.

Lost in his thoughts, Jamie didn’t realize how long he’d been drifting, watching the sky change from deep blue to the blush of sunset. He gathered his wandering thoughts and struck out back toward the shore.

His feet found the rocky bank and stood up in the waist deep water, pushing the mop of auburn hair back from his face.

“Wait, stop! Are you naked?”

Jamie whipped around toward the voice and fell back into the water, frantically covering himself with both hands. There was a woman sitting not ten feet away from him with her skirt hiked up above her knees and one long bare leg submerged ankle deep in the loch.

_ “Christ!” _ He sputtered, “Ye scairt me half to death!” 

“I’m sorry! It seemed better to say something than wait for you to notice me after you were out.”

He was neck deep in the water and his clothes were a few yards away, a discarded heap next to the path. She followed his gaze and realized his predicament, swiftly turning around to give him some privacy. Jamie leapt out and grabbed his sark, pulling it over his dripping body. The linen stuck to his skin, making it awkward to push his arms through the sleeves, but he finally got it on and his plaid wrapped hastily around his waist. 

Picking up his boots, he sat down to pull them on, risking a glance at the stranger and doing a double take when he realized she was now studying him intently.

“James Fraser?”

He froze, caught in the intensity of her gaze. Her eyes were deep pools of amber and her hair tumbled around her face like…

“It’s you!”

Jamie jumped to his feet and moved closer, fascination and panic at war in his stomach. He suddenly found himself inches away from a grown version of the faerie that had been living in his dreams since that day at the stones when he was a lad. Her eyes were exactly the same, distinctly bird-like, but reminding him also of the sun shining through a glass of whisky. Her face had matured, as well as her body, and he flushed when he realized after a moment he had been staring at the bare leg exposed beneath her skirts.

“How are ye here?” She took a breath to answer but he was already asking “Are ye going to disappear again? Are ye a faerie, after all?”

A smile burst across her face and knocked the breath right out of his lungs. Jamie sank down to sit beside her before he lost his balance as the world shifted under his feet. 

“I’m not a faerie, sorry to disappoint.” Her grin was cheeky, seemingly unaffected by the lightning bolt that had struck him.

“A witch?” his brows furrowed at the thought, but she was already laughing and shaking her head.

“No, my lad. Not a witch.”

He glared at her in frustration, she was laughing at him when he meant to be serious. “I saw ye disappear through the stones that day. I’m no’ a wee lad anymore, and I ken what I saw, so tell me the truth.”

Seeing his annoyance, she sighed and turned to look out at the loch, “I shouldn’t have let you see me go through,” her mouth had dropped and she frowned thoughtfully at her ankle submerged in the water.

“But ye did,” Jamie set his jaw stubbornly. “And ye’ll tell me how, or else…” he glanced around, wracking his brain for a suitable threat.

“You’ll throw me in the lake?” He could see the smile twitching at the corners of her mouth again.

“Aye, I might.” Emotions swirled inside his body, making Jamie’s head spin. Elation at seeing her again after all this time, mixed with fear that she would evaporate into thin air, and a thick fluttering mass of infatuation wrapped tight in his chest. 

Even filled with frustration at her refusal to give him a straight answer, he found her stunning. He had never been so aware of a lass in his life. Unconsciously his eyes dropped again to the expanse of smooth flesh stretching down into the water, and then he frowned. 

Just beneath the water’s surface her perfect white skin was marred, the ankle puffy and discolored like she had twisted it.

“Och, lass. Are ye hurt?” Jamie felt his heart twist at the thought of her being in pain.

“Yes, that’s why I came down here in the first place. I think it’s sprained.” She lifted her shapely leg out of the water and they both studied it; she with the shrewd analysis of a healer and he with the innocent lustful fascination of a teenage boy.

Jamie’s only experience of leg injuries was from working with horses, and he didn’t know how much of that knowledge transferred over. But from the look of her tender ankle he’d venture a guess that it wasn’t broken. 

“The cold water will help bring down the swelling,” she lowered her foot once more and let it trail in the loch. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to put weight on it yet, but if you need to go you can. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll bide a while,” Jamie offered, knowing he wouldn’t leave her down here alone under any circumstances. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, her foot creating ripples in the loch that made him glance at her curls and smile at the resemblance. The smile faded when he remembered her evasion of his questions. He saw her shiver and goosebumps rose on her forearms, fine hairs golden in the last rays of the sun.

“How did you not freeze to death, swimming naked in October?” She glanced over her shoulder, smirking at him. His clothes were still damp but he wasn’t chilled at all. His whole body was burning up from her proximity and her gaze, scorching his skin like fire. He shrugged, feeling that was an adequate answer to her question. Their eyes caught and held as twilight fell around them.

“I wilna toss ye in the loch,” he said, and the yellow eyes creased with humor, then turned away again to flit over the landscape. “But, I would like to ken. I’ve wondered about ye all these years.”

She pondered his words, rhythmically bobbing her foot and watching the water move.

“Did you really think I was a faerie?”

“Aye.” He was mesmerized by the droplets pearling and dripping down her skin. “It made the most sense out of anything,” he added, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

“I will tell you, James Fraser. But not today. Can you live with that?”

“I dinna like it, but I’ll live.” He felt his lips twitch as she turned and narrowed her eyes at him. Then he smiled kindly. “Maybe we’d best get ye up to Mrs. Fitz so she can take a keek at that ankle.”

“Wait!” panic burned in her eyes and she reached to grab his wrist. She was worried about something. He remembered how her emotions played across her face so blatantly before and realized she hadn’t changed. He could read her expressions as easily as words on a page.

“Ye need a likely reason to be at the castle, aye?”

“Well, yes.” She had the decency to look abashed, “I was going to tell them I’m a healer and heard in Inverness that Leoch was in need of one.”

“But that isna the truth, is it?”

“Not the whole truth, no.” Her eyes held a challenge, willing him to decide if he would be party to her agenda without knowing what it was.

Jamie studied those eyes again, sharp and insistent, their whisky color masked in shadows. He pretended to need time to make up his mind, knowing all the while he was going to follow her lead just to find out what she would do next. 

Nodding his assent and noting the relief cross her face, he got to his feet, bent, and hoisted her up into his arms. She let out a very undignified squeak. “What? Stop! Put me down!”

“Lass, it’s getting darker by the minute and we’ve got a bit of a hike up to th’ castle.” He inhaled deeply into lungs that suddenly felt short of air, trying not to think of how good it felt to have her soft body tight against his chest. “This is faster, ken?”

She gave in reluctantly and he turned to start up the steep bank and path winding through the heather. 

“Yer given name is Claire, is that right?” At her nod he continued, “I thought so, but it didna seem right to call a faerie by her first name. Now that I ken ye’re just a sassenach, it’s different.”

“What’s a sassenach?” She looked affronted but curious, her nose scrunched and ready to take offense. Jamie tightened his grip as he carefully stepped over a fallen log, feeling her rowdy curls brushing his cheek. “It just means foreigner. I shoulda kent ye werena a faerie from yer accent alone, a Highland faerie with no brough? I canna believe I didna see right through ye.” They shared a grin and then he needed his breath to get up the last rise in the path and up the steps to the back gate.

Approaching the kitchen of Leoch, it did occur to Jamie that this was the second lass he had brought to Mrs. Fitz with an ankle injury in as many days. The look on Mrs. Fitz’s face said she also recognized the irony of the situation, but she motioned for Jamie to set his companion down on a low stool by the fire.

He reluctantly released Claire, feeling the warm weight of her burnt onto his hands even after he let her go. Stepping back, he stood out of the way but stayed close, listening as Mrs. Fitz began to ask who she was and the nature of her injury. When she answered, the woman glanced sharply at Jamie. “Yer English?” The two proceeded in the questioning and examination a little more wary of each other, but Claire spun her tale with a straightforward believability that made Jamie crane his neck a bit to see if her face gave her away. She had wisely kept her focus on her injured ankle as she spoke.

A clatter of pans made him glance up and notice a young lass, the golden haired one from the loch, on the other side of the kitchens. She was red as a beet and glaring at them with dark suspicion, trying to listen into the conversation.

Well, maybe she’d finally take a hint and leave him alone. His attention was drawn back to Claire as Mrs. Fitz pulled the puffy discolored ankle onto her lap. Wincing in sympathy, Jamie watched as she examined the joint and declared it to be a sprain. She applied a poultice and wrapped it snugly in strips of linen. 

“Young Jamie can take ye to a guest room, and I’ll be up with some dinner for ye in a bit.” The woman rose to her feet and turned to him, “Will ye put her in the blue room in the west hall?”

“Aye,” he was already reaching for her again, lifting and pulling her close to his body. Something in his stomach tensed when she wrapped her arms around his neck without complaint, and he turned down the hall without another thought or care for anyone behind them.

They didn’t speak until he pushed a door open with his shoulder, set her down at the edge of the guest bed and turned to lower himself into a chair. He felt suddenly awkward and shy, and he was sure she could hear his heart beating from across the room.

After several minutes of silence he spoke, “It isna just chance, is it? That ye and I are here at the same time?”

“No, it isn’t chance,” she looked up and met his eyes, pools of darkness reflecting orange in the firelight. “I… heard that you were here. I wanted to see you again.”

He felt a glow in his chest at that, but he couldn’t think of a thing to say. He didn’t want to push her to talk about the stones or why she was at Leoch to begin with, and every other question he could think of seemed wrong in the moment. Instead, he watched the fire and stole glances her way, not wanting to leave, but lacking a real reason to stay.

Mrs. Fitz pushed through the door with a tray of soup and crusty bread, and Jamie rose to his feet, feeling his stomach sink. Claire’s eyes avoided him, and he murmured an apology backing out into the hall. He didn’t stop till he reached his own quarters and leaned against the closed door.

Da had said when he found the right woman he would just know, and he did. Jamie didn’t know who she was, where she came from, or what kind of magic let her walk through solid stone, but he knew with all the feeling of his 16 years on this earth that he was in love.


	4. October 5, 1737

[ ](https://ibb.co/rtjqK8F)

_ October 5, 1737 _

It turned out Leoch already had a healer; a superstitious mole of a man everyone called Beaton. Claire offered to help him in the surgery during her stay and he reluctantly accepted, keeping her busy fetching and carrying for him. From what she could tell, the man harmed more people than he healed.

She had a backstory to explain her presence, complete with names, locations and events that added legitimacy to what she said. Mrs. Fitz had believed her easily enough, and drifters were so common that she didn’t attract the attention of many others. 

The only kink in her operation was Jamie.

It had dawned on her only after he left abruptly on the first night how foolish she had been to come here. The fact that he had seen her disappear at Craigh na Dun was actually dangerous, not only to the operation but to her life. She hadn’t told anyone about the boy she met all those years ago, but if her parents or Lamb had known, they would never have let her travel in his life span again.

If Jamie decided to tell anyone that he had seen the English healer disappear through the stones on the faerie hill, she’d be accused of witchcraft or worse. Claire had been cursing her own impulsiveness and avoiding him for almost a week, not sure how to handle the dilemma.

What made it worse was that Jamie had been making a valiant effort to seek her out. As the days passed, his glances grew more narrowed and his attempts more calculated. She could feel his frustration with her from across the hall at meals or as his eyes followed her when she passed the training yards.

Avoiding him was immature, she knew. But she couldn’t help it.

Claire hurried down the hall toward her room with a plate full of food she had swiped from the kitchen. The men didn’t come in for the evening for another twenty minutes, so she should be safe enough if she turned in and spent the evening recording her observations of the Mackenzie clan.

She pushed open the door with her shoulder and bumped it closed with her hip, turning to set down the plate on the side table by the bed.

Behind her, the bolt shot home and she spun with a gasp. 

_ Fuck. _

He was angry. The tips of his ears were so pink they were practically glowing, and his eyes flashed electric blue with heat and intensity.

“So, at last ye canna run away from me.” His voice was stilted but controlled, and he did not try to approach her, for which she was very grateful. 

“I know we need to talk,” she said hesitantly, “and I know I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Avoiding me?” The words were hurt and bitter, “Ye told me that ye wanted to see me again, that ye came to Leoch knowing I was here. And for days ye’ve been ducking behind doors every time I lay eyes on ye, like a scairt rabbit hiding from a fox.” His Highland brough deepened with each word, and Claire saw the sheen of tears in his eyes. 

Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. “Jamie, I’m… I don’t know what I can say,” she trailed off helplessly. He waited, searching her face. The anger faded slowly from his eyes, and resignation settled in its place.

“I havena pushed ye to tell me yer secrets, Claire.” He turned his face away, staring into the fire and his shoulders slumped with defeat. “I ken I shouldna be in yer chamber. I’ll go. Ye dinna need to tell me anything if that is what ye wish.” He swallowed hard, face set in stone, and turned to leave. 

Before she could think, Claire was across the room and blocking his way to the door. She looked up, realizing immediately that she was too close. His eyes were wide at her sudden movement and he inhaled a breath that stuttered in his chest as his nose filled with her scent. 

“Don’t leave,” it came out as a whisper and his eyes dropped to her mouth, tongue wetting his bottom lip unconsciously.

Her back hit the solid wood of the door and her whole body tingled as Jamie’s brow furrowed and he stepped in, pulled by a magnetism she couldn’t explain. His hand lifted in slow motion, as if he was wary of her spooking like a skittish mare, and his thumb brushed feather light against her chin. 

“Don’t,” she said again, but her tone this time made him freeze in place. They stood inches apart, staring into each other’s eyes, reading the secrets there. After a moment Jamie blinked and eased back, breaking the tension between them.

“Sit, Jamie. I’ll tell you what I can.”

The blue eyes lifted to meet hers again and he nodded, jaw clenched tight. He moved to the fire and sunk down into a padded chair.

Claire was glad of the heavy door keeping her upright. When Jamie stepped away she had ached to move with him, to maintain their connection. But instead she let it pull tight and snap, fraying between them where it tore.

_ What the hell was that? _

He kept his eyes on the flames and his face smooth, giving nothing away. His lanky body was at ease, though Claire noticed two of the fingers on his left hand tapping rhythmically against his thigh. His… very muscular thigh. She found herself studying him with a new awareness coloring everything she saw.

There was another chair opposite where he sat by the fire, but her legs still felt like rubber so she didn’t attempt to move quite yet. Instead she focused on the boy she had been so interested to find that she had thrown caution to the wind. The boy she had hurt deeply with her fear these past few days.

“Have you ever heard the song of the woman of Balnain?”

Jamie stiffened when she spoke, but then consciously relaxed each muscle again and nodded. 

“Well, it’s actually a true story. The stones at Craigh na Dun are a portal… a passageway through time.” She watched him carefully but he did not react outwardly except for the fingers tapping on his leg. 

“Some people, like the woman of Balnain, go through accidentally. They don’t realize what the stones are, and if they touch them on the right days they can travel without meaning to. But my family uses time travel as a tool. I’ve been traveling since I was a child.”

His brow creased at that, and Claire found the strength to step across the room. She ignored the chair and sank down to the floor in his line of vision, holding his eyes when they found hers.

“I was avoiding you, Jamie, because I realized that if you told anyone about the stones I’d be in danger. I didn’t think it through before I came, and I was afraid. I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“I wouldna ever cause ye harm,” he spoke softly, “ye dinna need to fear me, lass.”

“Do you believe me?” 

A beat passed as he studied her face, “How could I not? I saw ye pass through the stones wi’ my own eyes, didn’t I?” The corner of his mouth twitched and she felt a weight lifting off of her chest. “A time traveler isna any more far fetched than a faerie, or a witch. So, I suppose I do believe ye.”

“Oh, good.” Claire reached out, laying her hand on his knee. “Thank you, Jamie.” The muscle below her hand tensed and he leaned forward slowly.

“Can ye tell me more?” His eyes were wary, but curious. “Why is it that ye are at Leoch? I assume it was no’ just to see me again.”

“Well,” a lifetime of warnings and rules about interacting with people of different time periods crowded her mind. She was already on uncharted ground. Telling someone that you are a time traveler was actually even worse than letting them see you travel, and she had done both.

But this was Jamie and, even though she didn’t know him, she trusted him. She had trusted him when he was 8 years old and she trusted him now, against all of the logic and caution that had been drilled into her since childhood.

“People travel for different reasons, but my family’s main reason for travel is to accurately record the past. We try not to change it—for the most part—though there are others that do. But I’m here because we are studying records of the Highlands and events that take place here, and we want to confirm that the way history is recorded is what actually happened.”

He was concentrating on her words, rolling them over in his mind and nodding as he cataloged each fact like he was compiling a spreadsheet in his brain on time travel.

“What year are ye from?” he spoke at last, and Claire bit her lip anticipating his reaction.

“Twenty one oh eight.”

Jamie’s eyes widened as his lips silently repeated the numbers in awe. 

“Don’t think about it too hard or your head will explode,” she joked, trying to get him to smile. 

“Aye, I think my head is in some danger, Sassenach.” He stood abruptly, walking to the window and looking out over the loch in the distance. Then he turned to her again, “I want to ask ye more, but I canna think just now.’

“I’ll answer any question you have, Jamie.” Claire responded seriously, knowing she had crossed a line that few in her family had crossed before. She was consciously laying her safety and secrets in his hands and choosing to trust that he would guard them. She should be terrified, but her heart and mind felt only peace.

He reached a hand to help her to her feet. “Will ye come down to dinner wi’ me? I ken ye havena been eating in the hall much, and ye need a hot meal.” His face was shy and eager, and she felt their connection knitting back together, repairing itself like a living thing between them.

Claire tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, feeling the strings pull taut between their souls. His fingers rested on top of hers, then, deliberately traced the delicate tendon and bone beneath her skin. His touch was like electricity pulsing in her blood with every beat of her heart.

“Shall we go then, lass?”

“Um, yes.” She pried her eyes away from where he touched her and found him watching her face. At her nod they moved to the door, peeked out in the corridor and when the coast was deemed clear, he swept her out and down to the big hall.

Jamie kept her close to his side and steered them to an open bench. It was a different part of the hall than where she usually sat, and she was surrounded by the young men of the castle. Most seemed to be around Jamie’s age, and a ripple of approval made its way through them when Claire appeared on his arm.

“Finally won yer lassie over then, Jamie?” There was a chorus of “Aye!” and “Atta lad!” while they all elbowed each other in the ribs.

“Hauld yer wheesht,” he shot at them, helping Claire sit down and settling close beside her. On the other side a dark haired young man with a wispy beard leaned in and joked, “Ye led him on a merry chase, lass. It’s kind of ye to take pity on th’ poor lad, though he isna much tae look at.”

Jamie was flushed pink, his embarrassment and frustration mounting, but Claire took his hand under the table. She laid his palm flat on her thigh and traced his fingers with her own, feeling the calluses at the tip of each and on his palm. Between their hands was fire and current, and for long moments the world fell quiet as they explored the dips and lengths and crevices of the other.

At last the meal was laid out and they needed both hands to eat, but an awareness remained between them where their knees touched. Claire tried to keep her eyes on her plate, seeing his shy glances in her peripheral vision. His attention was mesmerizing, and for a moment she pulled her mind away and tried to clear the buzz of attraction in her head.

_ He’s 16 years old. This is inappropriate. _

She swallowed as a queasy feeling filled her stomach. This was going too fast, the feelings too strong. Jamie wouldn’t have the same qualms she did about their age difference, so it was up to her to keep their relationship on safer ground.

Her stomach tightened as his hand slipped under the table and found hers again.

_ Oh god, I’m in trouble. _


	5. October 19, 1737

[ ](https://ibb.co/X5Z7wHM)

_  
October 19, 1737 _

Jamie watched her disappear into the woods with her wee basket, off to hunt for herbs. She looked so bonny today, curls piled atop her head and her bodice pulled in snug round the waist. His fingers itched to touch her and he flexed them discreetly at his sides.

They had been spending a few hours together each evening after his training and her work in the surgery. The lads stopped ribbing him about her and now just accepted her presence by his side at each meal. Even Murtagh, his godfather, had given him a grudging approval of the lass. And that was high praise indeed.

She’d make a fine Lady Broch Turach.

He imagined the homecoming they would have. His Da would love her spirit and wit; he had always encouraged his children to read widely and think for themselves. And Jamie could picture Claire and Jenny becoming close as sisters.

Aye, it was time to return to Lallybroch. It might be a year or two before they were wed, but he meant to settle down and help Da with the running of the estate in the meantime. With a wife to provide for and bairns surely following soon after, he needed to be ready to take over as laird when the time came.

Dougal gave a shout as one of the lads missed a block yet again and narrowly missed losing a hand.

“Feckin block headed midges, the lot of ye! Get outta my sight. We’re done fer the day.” He grabbed the sword out of the sniveling lad’s hand and shoved him toward the castle.

Jamie eagerly put away his training gear and slipped out as the group headed in to enjoy their afternoon off. He followed the path Claire had taken, jogging as soon as he was out of sight from the castle.

She hadn’t gotten far. He spotted her kneeling in a glade, splotches of sunlight dappling her skin and hair. The curls that had managed to pull loose danced in the breeze around her face.

“Sassenach,” the word fell low and reverant from his lips, but she sensed it and turned her face toward him with a smile.

_ A Dhia, tapadh leat. She’s beautiful. _

Jamie stepped into the meadow until he stood a few feet from her, then he executed a deep formal bow. He held out his hand for hers and grinned when she laughed and let him help her to her feet.

“And to what do I owe this honor?” Claire’s smile was sweetness itself and he let it pour over him like honey. He wanted to pull her close and kiss her—had wanted to feel her mouth on his own for some time, but something in her demeanor always held him back. 

“I thought I’d come help ye find yer wee herbs, since Dougal let us go early.”

She handed him her basket to carry and bent again to the plants she had been cutting when he arrived. From his vantage point, Jamie had an excellent view of the way her skirt hugged the curve of her wee plump arse. He took a deep breath and pulled his gaze away.

They moved through the woods, chatting about inconsequential things. Claire pointed out herbs and roots as she took them, telling him what their uses were in this time and then how medicine had changed in the future.

His favorite topic was the future. Jamie was fascinated by the stories of her time; the politics, the industry, and he had dozens of questions that she tried to answer. He noticed she was careful not to talk about Scotland’s history or anything that would happen in his lifetime, but she gladly spoke of her life in the 22nd century and her passion for medicine.

She had just finished trying to describe something called a vaccine when Jamie found a boulder in a patch of sunshine and pulled her down to sit on it, laying the basket at their feet. 

“Claire,” he began, taking her soft hand in both of his, reassured by the power that sparked between them. He had been thinking of  _ their _ future all day, and he wanted to start making plans with her. She turned toward him expectantly and he was struck again with the lines of her neck, the amber depths of her eyes. He could see the years stretching ahead of them as the laird and lady surrounded by their bairns.

“I’ve been thinking that it’s time tae go home to Lallybroch.”

Her lips curved into a joyful smile, rosy and begging to be kissed. She squeezed his hands tightly. “Of course, Jamie! I’m sure your Da and Jenny will be thrilled to see you after so long.”

Jamie smiled back, but his heart dropped a little. He had hoped she would understand that she was included in his plan to leave, but perhaps he needed to be clearer. 

“Aye, it will be good to see them as well. I, eh… I had hoped to bring ye with me, Claire.”

“Bring me to meet your family?” 

She looked confused and so he hurried to clarify once more, “To meet them, aye. And if yer willing, I had hoped for ye to call Lallybroch yer home as well.”

A furrow formed between her brows as she took in his words. Her demeanor shifted, only slightly, but enough that he suddenly felt small and inferior. Like a lad being talked down to by an adult. He had always felt that they were equals and the sudden change in her was like having cold water dashed in his face when he wasn’t expecting it.

Doubt filled him as he watched her grapple with the words to say. Words his heart dreaded but he could see in her face that they were coming. His hope died a little each moment that passed.

“Jamie, I’m not going to Lallybroch. I’m going back to my time.”

“Claire—no, don’t say that.” He tried to keep his voice calm and reasonable, “Claire, yer home is with me. Do ye not ken that?” She had started shaking her head and pulling her hands back from his own, eyes full of sorrow and denial.

“Jamie, I’m sorry…”

“NO,” he felt desperate tears forming in his eyes, “Claire, we are meant to be together. Don’t ye feel it between us? When I touch ye,  _ mo ghraidh, _ surely ye feel that?”

He grasped her hands, pulling them up to his lips, kissing her fingers and searching her face. But it didn’t change, the sadness was carved into her features. At least she had stopped trying to pull away, and her fingers turned to cup his cheek.

“I do feel it, Jamie.” He turned his head to kiss her palm, letting his hands drift down her arms and up to touch the soft skin of her neck and face.

“Then ye canna leave me, Claire. Ye must stay wi’ me, for we are made for each other, you and I.” He whispered, laying his forehead against hers and threading his fingers into her curls.

“It’s not that simple,” her voice was tortured but Jamie only heard the denial in her words.

“It  _ is  _ that simple!” He shot back in a frustrated growl. “I love ye, I mean to make ye my wife!” He hated that he was speaking those words to her in anger instead of whispering them with love.

There was a startled pause and then she actually laughed, sending a shock of fire down his spine. “Your wife?” Her voice was incredulous and he felt a blow to his chest as she shoved him back and their connection was broken. “You are only sixteen years old!”

Jamie saw red. He was frozen in humiliated fury, flushed darkly and glaring at her. How could she say that? He wanted to pull her hard against him and show her he was a man. He wanted to kiss her till she surrendered to him. He wanted to throw her down on the grass and…

He was walking away before he even realized he had stood. His hands shook and he clenched them into fists and held them hard against his aching heart. The tears that had burned behind his eyes began to fall down his cheeks, and when he had crossed the clearing he slowed and pressed his forehead hard against the rough bark of a tree.

Claire’s presence came up warm behind him but he couldn’t turn. He couldn’t look at her.

“Jamie,” she whispered but her voice was a thorn ripping at his flesh. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that. It’s just… in my time, sixteen is too young to think about marriage. Actually, in my time I’d be breaking the law to be with you like that.”

He breathed deep through his nose, trying to stop the tears. 

“I do feel it. Our connection when we touch. But I... can’t. I need to go home and I don’t know if I’ll ever...”

“How old?”

The question came out harsh, his emotions still too high to soften his tone. At her startled silence, he turned, unable to meet her eyes but determined to get an answer.

“How old must a man be in your time to ask a lass to marry him?”

“At least 18,” she started, “but usually it’s…”

“Then go.” He cut her off, unable to bear whatever she might say next. “Go if ye must, but give me your word that ye’ll come back. Ye dinna need to promise to stay.” He swallowed his sorrow and continued, “Just that I’ll see ye again when I’m old enough to try to win yer heart.”

“Oh, Jamie,” 

“ _ Give me your word _ , Claire.” The ache was overwhelming, but he was desperate to secure this assurance from her.

“I promise.” There were tears in her voice and he couldn’t help but look at her then, to see the agony etched on her face. To soak in the fact that she looked as awful as he felt. His heart wrenched from his chest and forced him forward. If he must lose her...

“ _ Mo nighean donn,”  _ he stepped in and cupped her cheeks, stroking her tears away with his thumbs, memorizing the shape of her face, knowing he may never have the future he wanted so desperately with her. “I love ye. I love ye, Claire.”

He pressed his lips to hers, wet with tears and trembling. Heat and desire smouldered in his chest, but a blanket of sorrow overwhelmed everything else. 

Once, twice, he kissed her beautiful mouth. He held his destiny between his two hands. Then he wrenched himself away and didn’t stop running till he reached the stables where no one could hear him cry but the horses.


	6. October 30, 1737

[ ](https://ibb.co/mG2L57j)

_October 30, 1737_

Claire rushed through the woods in the fading light, cursing her luck. She only had a few days to travel the 32 kilometers between Leoch and Clava Cairns before the window at Samhain would close. It was plenty of time if nothing went wrong, but things hadn’t stopped going wrong since Jamie left her in the woods the week before.

First, when she finally pulled herself together enough to return to the castle, a visitor had arrived. The Duke of Sandringham was in negotiations with the MacKenzie on some private matter. She had tried to learn more about it, staying till the last possible hour and doing her best to get near the laird’s chambers when they were meeting, but nothing had worked.

Her observations of Colum and Dougal MacKenzie had gone reasonably well. She had recorded everything she could about Colum’s disease; having talked Beaton into letting her be the one to give him his nightly massages she was able to ask him questions about his ailments. She had also been able to eavesdrop around Dougal enough to pick up tidbits of information. There hadn’t been any evidence of his having help to collect for the Stuarts, at least not then. But several of his men, including the lawyer Ned Gowan, had seemed to be sympathetic to the Jacobite cause and she had snuck photos of handwriting to compare with the log books Lamb had back home at Colmeallie.

The plan had been to stay until Samhain and get as much intel as was reasonable and safe, and she had done that. Other than her broken heart, it had been a successful mission.

The last week, however, had been torture. Jamie had been avoiding her, and she had been reasonably sure that the Duke was trying to sexually assault him. It had been hard to miss the way Sandringham stared lustfully at Jamie’s lythe body, giving Claire the urge to jump between them.

_Don’t touch him, you fucker. He’s mine._

Except he wasn’t; she had crushed his heart that afternoon in the woods and he had been distant ever since. The one time she had tried to warn him about the Duke he had told her gruffly that he knew what the Duke wanted and how to keep away from him. She had caught his eyes on her several times during the week, and the sorrow in them had cut her heart to the quick.

It was better this way, but god, it hurt.

Now, she pulled out her compass, one of the many tools her family had designed to look like ordinary items found in earlier centuries. The compass was set in a dull flat stone that neatly slid apart when pushed at just the right angle to reveal its function.

She had to travel as far as possible before full dark, then get up at dawn to walk all day if she was going to make it. The terrain made the going slow, but if she missed the window at Samhain she’d have to find a gemstone or wait for her father to come looking for her. The passage was dangerous and unpredictable between the feast days, so she simply had to arrive on time.

The wind shifted and Claire’s nose picked up something that made her pause. It was shit, but something about the smell… it was human shit—and wreaked of illness. Fresh. That could only mean someone was sick nearby.

Should she stop? A major delay now would almost certainly mean she’d miss the window, but her instincts clawed at her to check on whoever it was and make sure she’d done everything she could before leaving.

“Och, Jesus God,” a voice moaned, and there was a sound that could be nothing but explosive diarrhea. 

She rustled in the leaves a bit to make them aware of her approach and then softly called out, “Are you alright? I’m a healer, can I help?”

There was a scuttle, a yelp of surprise, and then a fierce whisper, “Sassenach?”

“Jamie?” Claire bounded through the brush then, only to find that he was hastily backing away. She gave a wide berth to the area he had been in that still smelled of his recent presence.

“Get away, Claire. I dinna want to see ye. What are ye doing out here?” He had gotten to his horse and was desperately trying to get his foot in the stirrup but haste and digestive distress made him clumsy.

“I’m trying to leave. What are you doing out here? Are you sick?”

He groaned, doubling over and holding his stomach. Then he rushed again into the brush. “Please go, Claire. Please, I dinna want ye here.” She ignored him, reaching to touch his forehead which was cold and sweaty. He tried to jerk himself away but she caught his shoulders and held him steady as he expelled more of whatever inside him was causing such problems.

“You must have eaten something, or caught a stomach bug. I can try to find something that will help…” Jamie’s hand slashed through the air and cut her off. 

“No, I ken what I took and why. Please, Sassenach. Just go.”

“You took something?” Claire was glad that he had at least the privacy of semi-darkness, because she was not leaving him sick in the woods alone, no matter what he wanted.

“Aye,” he leaned his damp forehead against her shoulder and gripped her arm when another cramp hit his stomach.

“Tell me what it was, goddamnit!” Her mind frantically raced through possible causes and remedies.

“I drank a whole bottle of syrup of figs.” 

Claire stopped and stared at the white shape of his face in the dark. “Syrup of figs?” She repeated blankly.

“Aye,” Jamie finished cleaning himself and stood shakily to his feet. “The Duke wouldna take no for an answer anymore, and I needed ta make sure he’d leave me alone.”

“Oh, I guess that would do it.” She followed as he walked stiffly to his horse, intending to help him, but he pulled himself up and she was left on the ground unsure of what to say. “Well, drink plenty of fluids. You need to be replacing everything your body expels.”

He made a Scottish noise deep in his throat that she took as acknowledgment. She stood awkwardly for a moment and then turned away. “Okay then, I guess I’ll let you go.” The woods were full dark now, but she started walking, determined to get further from the castle before daylight.

“Wait,” his voice came from behind her and she stopped, waiting for him to speak. He pulled his horse up alongside her and she felt his reluctance as he asked, “Where are ye headed?”

“Clava Cairns, just west of Inverness.”

“Craigh na Dun is more on my way, would that do?”

She turned to him, not seeing but feeling his warm presence with her in the dark. She had missed him so much.

“I need to be there either on Samhain or the day before or after.”

Jamie sighed and reached his hand down for her. She felt it brush her shoulder and she grasped it, gasping when he pulled her up behind the saddle.

“I can get ye there tomorrow, Sassenach.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling a tremor run through him, though she couldn’t tell if it was her touch or the cramps.

They didn’t speak as they rode carefully through the dark woods. Jamie seemed to be able to see or sense any branches, and he steered around or pulled them out of the way. Claire just laid her cheek on his back and closed her eyes.

Every ten or fifteen minutes his abdomen would tighten and they would stop, allowing him to rush off into the woods. She tried to get down the first time but he curtly shoved her back on the horse with a firm “ _No_.”

He obediently drank from her flask of water each time he returned and they continued on.

The sun had been down for three hours when he stopped and hopped down, reaching up to help her from her perch. 

“We’ll camp here for the night,” he said, hands lingering on her waist before he pulled away and started unloading the horse. Claire couldn’t see a thing so she pulled out her flashlight that had been designed to look like a wooden dowel, unscrewed the top and shone the bright light around the forest.

“ _Christ!_ ” Jamie exclaimed with surprise behind her, “what is that?”

“It’s a flashlight,” she stepped over so he could touch it. “It runs on batteries, which are kind of a portable electricity.”

He flashed the light in his own eyes and winced, “It's bright as the noon sun. What a useful bit this is.” Claire watched with a smile as he walked around clearing the ground for a fire and finding sticks to build it, all the while shining the flashlight around the woods and muttering with wonder as it lit his way.

He relinquished it only when he had replaced the artificial light with the warmth and crackle of a fire. They scooted in close, holding their hands out to the flames until they were warmed through. 

“How is your stomach?”

Jamie grimaced, “Sassenach, please dinna mention my stomach ever again, and forget everything ye heard or smelled tonight.”

She laughed and, after a moment, he chuckled softly as well, breaking the tension between them. They rummaged through their bags and pulled out enough food for a meal, reminiscing about the meal they had shared in the woods together when they first met. Jamie’s stomach had calmed down considerably and he told her all about his narrow escapes from the Duke of Sandringham over the past week, including once when he had to dive in the loch with his kilt on and another when he was cornered in a horse stall.

“My god, Jamie! No wonder you downed the syrup of figs.”

“Aye, I didna want to cause a rift between the Duke and Colum, so I couldna say anything. But I was afraid for my arse, Sassenach. He wasna going to be denied any longer.”

Claire shuddered, and Jamie wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side. “Dinna fash, _a nighean_ ,” she heard the grin in his voice, “I wilna let my virginity go to a man like Sandringham.”

He meant to make her laugh, but tears clogged in her throat. Jamie felt her body lurch to contain a sob and he brought her in tight to his chest, soothing her in Gaelic and stroking her curls. She tried several times to articulate why she was crying, but in the end she lay hiccuping with her face buried in his neck. 

When she opened her eyes it was morning and she was wrapped in Jamie’s plaid and his arms. The sky had begun to lighten, casting the forest around them in misty gray light. Claire didn’t move, she just lay in the warm circle of his embrace, contemplating the promise she had made him and watched the world begin to stir.

Jamie’s arms tightened around her and his nose brushed her ear as he inhaled her scent deep into his lungs. “I could wake every morning this way, _mo chridhe._ ” His voice was rough with sleep.

She felt the burn of tears again, clogging her throat and clouding her vision, but she only leaned back into him and closed her eyes against the realities that would come after they left their warm cocoon. 

Neither were willing to get up and break the spell. For long minutes they lay together—not speaking, but communicating through the brush of fingers, the tightening of arms, the tilt of a chin or a cheek nuzzling deeper into the embrace.

At last, he kissed her temple and whispered, “If I dinna get up now, I’ll never let ye go.”

She nodded and they rose, shivering in the chill of morning. They ate, broke camp, and quickly moved on. 

It took all morning to make the journey and they rode in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Claire clung to Jamie’s waist when he kicked the horse into a run, a dead weight in her stomach thinking of leaving him. As the hours drug on she felt sick, knowing the stones were close and unsure when she would see him again. The future stretched out before her and uncertainty clawed at her heart.

The faerie hill looked exactly the same as when they had climbed it 8 years before. Jamie cobbled the horse and reached for her hand without a word. Claire heard the familiar song of the stones buzzing in her head, calling her to come through. She could sense her family on the other side, but for the first time the pull on this side was just as strong.

He was watching her face, concentrating on her like he was reading her thoughts as they crossed her mind. She saw the moment he discerned what she was thinking and his face contorted in pain.

“Sassenach--”

“No, Jamie, listen.” She slipped her arms around his neck and took a deep breath. “If I look for you and see that you marry and have a family, I won’t come back and disrupt that.”

“I wilna love anyone but you. Ever.”

“You might.” She blinked back tears. “People fall in and out of love all the time.”

He shook his head and pulled her tightly against him, arms like iron bands around her waist and shoulders. “I dinna want any future that ye arena part of, Claire _._ ”

She didn’t contradict him, but her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. He was sixteen. Anything could happen in the next few years. She had been so caught up in his presence and the electric current that ran between them that it had clouded her judgment. 

“I have to go,” she breathed, brokenly.

“ _Mo ghraidh, till thugam._ ” He whispered into her curls, voice thick with emotion. “Return to me, Claire.” Then he turned her toward the stones and she stumbled through with tears streaming down her face.


	7. December 19, 2110

[ ](https://ibb.co/XsKNGx2)

_December 19, 2110_

Claire navigated the twisty road that snaked up toward _Kamenný pastýř_ , the stone shepherd in the Czechia district of Kladno. Heat blasted on her feet and legs, leaving the cab of the rental car toasty warm, even in late December. Her father had the passenger seat slid back as far as it went to make room for his long limbs and was humming along to Bing Crosby singing _White Christmas_ on the radio.

“This is such a cheesy song, Dad.” She grinned as he started crooning the words to her.

“I know, sweetie. That’s why I like it. I’m a man of my time.”

Henry Beauchamp had been born in 1900 and spent his formative years based in that era until he met Julia Moriston in the year 2087 and married her shortly afterward. He had been living in the 22nd century now for over two decades but his taste in entertainment still leaned toward early 20th century musicals and he forced his family to watch them all the time.

“Do you ever regret choosing to live here, in this time?”

“No,” a dreamy smile crossed his face as he watched the snowy landscape sail by. “I took one look at your mom and knew she was the one for me. It didn’t matter what century she was in.”

Claire smiled again, thinking of her mother. “She is pretty special.”

“We also couldn’t function at the capacity we do if we had based ourselves in an earlier time,” Henry continued. “I try not to remember how hard it was to set up an op before the internet was a thing.” They both shuddered dramatically and Henry reached to turn down the music.

“No, when I met Julia I was a cocky little son of a bitch. High on being a time traveler and having my first real assignment. She knocked me off my feet.”

_Return to me, Claire._

Jamie’s last words echoed in her mind as they had daily for the past two years. He had knocked her off of her feet as well, but when she had returned home and readjusted to normal life everything she had felt and experienced in the 18th century seemed far away. She had spent the past months caught in a state of indecision and fear of what might happen if she tried to find him again. 

Claire pulled her thoughts away from the past and focused on her father’s story. 

“Mom was part of that druid grove, wasn’t she?”

“No, actually. When I came through the Aikey Brae circle just before dawn on Beltane 2087, she was sitting on the biggest rock with a digital camera and a thermos of coffee.”

“What? I never heard that before!”

Henry glanced at his daughter with a hesitant smile, “You know the dangers of letting people know we travel. We’ve been in a couple of close scrapes with governments and others who want to use us. So… I told everyone she was a druid just to keep them out of our hair.”

Claire’s heart skipped a beat. Her mother hadn’t known about travel? Then they had broken code just like she had with Jamie. The fear of telling her parents about that lapse of judgment eased slightly. 

“You fell in love right away?”

“I did. Yes.” His voice was husky with memory, “You know that feeling when you come through time; that surrender to the power of it, the overwhelming fear and joy all mixed together?”

He cleared his throat and his hands gestured helplessly, “That’s what falling in love feels like, with the right person. There’s fire between you, and it binds all of your senses together and welds you to that person, to their true good.”

There was a heavy moment when the weight of all she wanted to share with him, to ask him, was on the tip of her tongue. So many times she had swallowed it back down, but tonight… 

“I… I know,” Claire whispered, then pursed her lips, trying to keep them from trembling.

Henry was studying her face from across the cab. “I thought you might.”

They drove into the streetlights of the small town of Klobuky, and within minutes had checked into a motel for the night. Neither of them spoke as they carried their luggage in and threw them on their respective queen beds. Claire escaped into the bathroom for a shower and didn’t come out till the small room was clouded with fog and her skin was pruny.

It was 20 minutes later that they lay in the dark, each in their own questionably clean motel bed that he asked her, “Will you tell me about him?”

“How do you know it’s a him?” 

There was a smile in his voice, “When my daughter comes back from an 18th century mission looking heartbroken and won’t talk about it, I investigate.”

All the stress and fear and sorrow of the past two years clogged her throat, “Dad, I don’t know if I can.”

“Okay, let me tell you what I know and correct me if I’m wrong.” He didn’t wait for her to give him permission. “His name is James Fraser, and he’s the nephew of Colum MacKenzie. You met him at Leoch, but I’m guessing because he was 16 you didn’t let it go very far. And you’ve spent the last two years wondering if you broke his heart or if he is married with kids on the way by now.”

“What the fuck.” Claire had buried her head under the covers.

“Was I right?”

She let the tears fill her eyes and drip down in the darkness. “Mostly right,” she admitted softly. “Only I actually met him when I was 12. Leoch was the second time.” 

The whole story poured out of her in waves. From the little redhead boy full of grief who helped her find the way back to the stones, to the young man who let her go believing she would come back to him someday. Henry lay still in the dark, listening to his daughter’s heart.

“Will you go back, sweetie?”

“Dad, I don’t know. When I first came back I was so afraid, I felt completely out of control, like my feelings for him were so big they overwhelmed me. Then as time went by, I guess it was easier to just tell myself that what was between us couldn’t have been as powerful as it felt.”

She felt tears form at the corners of her eyes and slide down the sides of her face.

“If I let myself hope that he still feels the same way, and then I look back and find that he forgot me and married someone else… I don’t know, Dad. I feel paralyzed.”

“But if you knew he loved you, baby, would you go? Do you love him?”

“I… yes. I think I do love him, Dad.”

A peaceful quiet fell between them and Claire drifted to sleep with the relief of a burden lifted from her shoulders.

They were up at dawn, packing quickly and talking little. Both of them lost in their own thoughts as they parked the car and walked across the field toward _Kamenný pastýř._ The stone shepherd jutted up black against the dawn sky, and she could hear the pulsing buzz quickening her heartbeat and calling her in.

“Claire,” he stopped and turned to her, taking her shoulders. “He isn’t married. He’s at university in Paris in 1739, staying with his father’s cousin, Jared Fraser.”

“What? How do you… did you see him?” Her mind burst into a hundred directions at once.

“No, but I told you I did some investigating. You’ve been pining after him for two years… I mean, he’s my potential future son-in-law, so I kept tabs on him.”

He pulled her into his arms for a quick hard hug. “I have to go, but call your mom, okay? She knows all about it. You can take the car and drive down to Bois-lès-Pargny, to the _Vierzeux_ stone there, you know the one?” She nodded, unable to speak. Henry kissed her forehead and hugged her quickly one last time and then started toward the stone.

“You can go see him, baby. You could keep your promise, and then you won’t have to wonder anymore if what you feel for him is the real deal.”

He turned away, scanning the skyline for cars or people, and then stepped quickly to the stone, disappearing with a zap that Claire felt through her entire body.

She walked through the cold Czech dawn back to the rental car alone, her mind numb as the landscape coated in frozen dew. She could see him again. He wasn’t married. Her parents knew about him.

She hit her first speed dial entry and the electronic ring pierced through the fog in her thoughts.

“Good morning, darling.” Julia’s musical voice came over the line, and a sense of relieved calm flooded Claire’s mind. 

“Hey, Mama… Dad said you know… about Jamie?”

There was a slight pause, and then her mother laughed softly. “So he did talk to you? Are you upset with us for looking into him, Claire?”

“No, I… no. How did you know it was him?”

The sun slid above the trees and into Claire’s eyes, so she quickly put the car in gear and began driving, looking for a less conspicuous place to park and think.

“We had a hard time figuring it out, actually. It was Lamb in the end…”

“Lamb knows?” Claire groaned in humiliation. “Oh god, how could you not say anything?”

“Darling, you came back from that op completely heartbroken. We were all worried about you.”

Pulling into a petrol station, Claire parked the car and leaned back, eyes closed. “Tell me, how did you find him?”

“Lamb did a deep dive into all the young men known to be at Leoch around that time and didn’t find much. It was a few months later that he found your name in a letter in one of the historical databases from a place called Broch Turach. Your Jamie wrote to his father about you.”

It took 10 hours to drive from Klobuky, Czechia to Bois-lès-Pargny, France. She stopped for border checks and fuel, but otherwise drove straight through till she pulled into the quaint town. Her mother had arranged for someone to pick up and return the rental car, so she left it in the back of a shopping mall parking lot with the key hidden in the wheel well and set off to walk the 2 kilometers to _Verziau de Gargantua._

Her mind had not stopped replaying Jamie’s words from the scan of his letter her mother had sent to her phone.

  
  


_Dear Da and Janet,_

_I should spend some time replying to your questions about Leoch and my training with Dougal. But I find that I have not the patience for such things this evening._

_I hope to return home to Lallybroch soon. Within the month if it can be arranged._

_Da, do you remember telling me about when you first met Mam? You said when I found the right lass I would just know. You were right. Her name is Claire Beauchamp, and she is here at Leoch looking for a place to establish herself as a healer. God willing, she will accept my offer to come to Lallybroch. First, perhaps, as a healer, but I have my heart set on another title for her should she be amiable._

_Give Ian my regards and tell him I shall write soon._

_With deepest affection,_

_James A. M. M. Fraser_

  
  


Claire had changed into a basic woolen dress with a heavy cloak after she got out of town. She left on her thermal compression tights and shirt underneath, and hid her 22nd century clothes in a hollow log in the forest. Stepping out of the tree line, she walked quickly toward the _Vierzeux._

She didn’t hesitate; hadn’t really let herself consider any other course of action. Her parents had given her the knowledge and courage she needed to act, and suddenly she _had_ to know if what was between Jamie and herself was still there.

The stone called out to her and she welcomed it, stepping straight into its chaotic power. As it gripped her she thought that her dad was right, it did feel like falling in love.


	8. December 27, 1739

[ ](https://ibb.co/St0rjQ8)

_  
December 27, 1739 _

Jamie strode into Jared’s house at  _ Rue Tremoulins _ and swung the heavy door shut behind him with a bang, making a maid jump with surprise and drop the basket she had been carrying.

“ _ Pardonnez-moi s'il vous plaît, _ ” he muttered as he passed her and bounded up the steps to his rooms.

As soon as the door closed behind him he ripped off his belt and boots, dropping the smallsword, kilt and sporran on the floor carelessly. He threw himself across the four poster bed and buried his face in the feather mattress.

All that, and she hadn’t even chosen him. He was furious and humiliated. Jamie groaned, his face flushed with emotion.

What was so wrong with him, that every woman he loved chose to leave?

Annalise de Marillac was tiny and fluffy like a wee kitten. She chatted incessantly, never leaving a moment of silence in any conversation she occupied. She was always smiling, always taking an innocent joy in the things around her. And her presence was the only thing that distracted Jamie from his broken heart.

She was about as far from a dark, intelligent, time traveling woman as you could get.

He wasn’t going to think about that.

Two days ago he had seen Charles Gauloise kissing Annalise and he snapped. How dare he sully her innocence? How dare he try to steal away the one thing that gave Jamie some relief from his torment? So he had called him out, and this morning they had met at dawn.

But it hadn’t gone as expected.

Charles was an adequate swordsman, but Jamie had been trained by the best. It took minutes to draw first blood, and he’d turned toward Annalise with pride and satisfaction burning in his chest only to find that she was running to Charles.

He had been such a fool. Jamie pounded his fist into the pillow as hard as he could.

There was a knock at the door that made him jump. 

“Aye? Who is it?”

“ _ Pardon, Monsieur. _ A lady has arrived to see you, she is waiting in the front parlor.”

Annalise? She must have finally come to her senses! Jamie leaped to his feet, hastily wiping his face, and rushed to dress in fresh clothes. She would be distraught over what happened, of course, but surely her visit meant that she favored him in return. Maybe with Annalise he could finally find some peace after...

Pain hit his heart so sharply that he stopped in his tracks just as he got to the bedroom door. He rested his forehead on the frame and he took a deep steadying breath, then another. He cleared his mind and hurried downstairs to Annalise.

The front parlor door was cracked open, and Jamie was halfway through it before he got a proper look at his visitor.

“ _ Annalise, ma chér— _ “ 

He broke off when he saw her standing silhouetted against the window, her golden eyes shining with a hesitant joy. As his words hung in the air between them, her face froze and then fell.

“You were expecting someone else. I’m... so sorry.”

“Claire?” Jamie felt a wave of panic when she shrunk back from him and was across the room before he could think, grasping her shoulders roughly in his hands. His throat seized up making him unable to speak. He searched her eyes, cupping her chin in his palm and forcing her to look up at him when she tried to turn her face away.

Her fingers were clasped together over her stomach and Jamie watched the rosy flush of her cheeks pale rapidly as they faced each other. She blinked away a sheen of tears and a tremor ran down her slim throat as she swallowed.

“Are you glad to see me?”

“God, Claire.” He choked out the words and pulled her hard against his chest. 

He was shaking with relief and after a moment realized that she was shaking too, both of them gripped each other tightly as if they were afraid the other would disappear if not physically restrained. They stood trembling and crying together. Jamie marveled at the solid weight of her in his arms and the familiar scent of her hair against his cheek. Suddenly everything inside him clicked into place, the ache of longing that had gnawed at him for two years eased. 

Several long minutes later, he pulled back far enough to look into her face again. He was smiling through his tears, and it took a moment before he realized her eyes were still full of doubt.

“Sassenach, what is it?”

“Who’s Annalise?” Her voice was small but steady and she met his gaze with a look that broke his heart even as he shook his head in denial of what he could tell she was thinking.

“No, no, she’s a friend. I met her through the _Université._ She… no, Claire.”

He ignored the pang of guilt, needing desperately to reassure her. It didn’t matter. He had never touched Annalise or spoken words of love to her. He sent a prayer of thanks heavenward that she had gone to Charles this morning. It was divine providence that things had happened as they did when he had lost all hope.

Claire’s face was still wary but Jamie cupped it between his hands, feeling joy bubble up inside him. She was real _._ She had come back to him. He smiled at her and the tension eased as she relaxed into his touch.

“ _ Christ, _ Claire.” He tipped her face up toward him so he could rest his forehead on hers. “I canna believe ye are truly here.”

Her eyes drifted shut at the contact and she inhaled deeply. Jamie couldn’t stop watching her, his gaze caressing the silky lines of her face and the sweet curve of her mouth. 

“I can’t believe it either,” she whispered. “I was so afraid, but then… I had to know.”

Her amber eyes opened, inches from his own, and he felt the swell of power grow between them, a current that tugged him closer. 

“Had to know what, Sassenach?” His voice came out low and gravely, he could feel her breath on his lips. Her skin was so soft under his fingers as he stroked her cheek. The undertow dragged him in till his nose brushed against hers.

“If it was still there. If this… thing between us was real. Or if I had imagined it.”

“And is it?” He breathed, “Is it real?”

“It’s the most powerful thing I’ve felt in my life.”

Her confession bloomed in Jamie’s heart, vibrant and joyful. He opened his mouth to reply but she pushed up to her toes and closed the space between them, catching his lips with a gasp. 

Jamie had kissed lasses before. Admittedly not many, but he knew the feeling of his heart beating faster and blood rushing to unmentionable places. But this was different. It had always been different with Claire. 

Their only kiss all those years ago had been when he was drowning in heartbreak, but without the overwhelming sadness in his mind he could focus on the woman in his arms. The woman who was responding to his touch with touches of her own. 

It was like holding a living flame. Every nerve ending in his body was screaming and he surrendered to the demand for more, closer, deeper. He opened his mouth over hers, searing and melding them together with lips and tongue. She was delicious. Sweet and hot and hungry for him as he was for her. 

Jamie might have gone on kissing her for the rest of his life, but the sound of a throat clearing at the door registered somewhere deep in his brain and he pulled back from Claire reluctantly. 

Jared Fraser stood at the door, grinning, but politely turned half away while Jamie adjusted his kilt and smoothed Claire’s curls as best he could. There were still tear tracks on her cheeks and she swiped at them with her sleeve, putting on a brave smile.

“Jamie, lad! And who might this be?” Jared stepped forward and nodded to Claire, eyeing her tight hold on Jamie’s arm with open curiosity.

“This is my… my dear friend, Miss Claire Beauchamp. She has been visiting France and heard I was here.” He put a slight emphasis on her name and Jared’s eyes flew to his. Of course, he recognized the name. Jamie’s whole family knew he had been pining over her since he returned from Leoch. He shook his head slightly, hoping that his cousin wouldn’t embarrass him in front of her by saying anything.

“Of course, you are most welcome here, Miss Beauchamp. I am afraid that I must run out again before dinner, I have promised to dine with a colleague. But I trust Jamie will see you have everything you need to be comfortable.” Jared took her hand and pressed it warmly before excusing himself and heading to his study to collect some papers before he left again.

Moments later a maid tapped on the door to tell them dinner was served and Jamie confirmed that the lady would be staying and asked her to prepare a guest chamber. He raised an eyebrow at Claire.

“Might I request the honor of your company at dinner,  _ mademoiselle? _ ” He bowed formally over her hand and kissed her fingers.

She curtsied prettily and squeezed his hand. “I’d love to. Thank you,  _ monsieur. _ ”

“How long  _ will _ ye be staying, Sassenach?”

She blushed and bit her lip, making him reminisce back to moments before when those lips were on his. 

“I’m not sure yet. I didn’t have much of a plan, actually, past finding you and seeing if we were still…” she gestured between the two of them, her voice trailing off.

“We are.” Jamie spoke firmly. “At least, I am.”

“Good, I am too.” 

They shared the meal together, filling in carefully the years they had spent apart. Claire spoke of medical school, and Jamie had to bite his tongue to keep from asking if she planned to go back and finish it in her own time. So much was up in the air between them but he forced himself to wait. There would be time for that conversation later.

When their plates were empty he led her to the sitting room and settled her into a settee before the fire. Jamie kept her hand in his, feeling the power between their fingers like it was a palpable thing.

An easy silence fell between them, but there were things that needed to be said, things he would not let her leave his sight even for the night without getting off his chest.

“Claire,” he began, “I dinna ken what yer reasons were for staying away as long as ye did, though I’ve imagined quite a few possibilities.” He swallowed and started again, not wanting to get off topic. “When ye left and I went back home to Lallybroch, I told my Da all about ye.”

Her eyes grew wide and he hurried to correct himself, “Not that ye were a time traveler, no. But I told him what ye were to me and what I hoped… for us.”

She turned to watch the fire, keeping her eyes from his. But her hand was still warm and smooth in his grasp and he clung to it like a lifeline.

“He didna understand why ye never wrote, or why I waited for ye the way I did with no promise and no sign, just blind faith that ye’d come to me when I was of age. When he wanted to send me to Paris for my schooling I made him swear that he’d welcome ye and send for me straight away.”

There were tears in her eyes now, and Jamie felt the emotion of the past year crush his heart in his chest. All the pain and humiliation he had felt gripped him as real as it had every day since he turned eighteen.

“I was waiting for ye, Claire. Every week when Da wrote to me I thought surely this letter would bring word of yer arrival. I spent months watching for ye to appear around a corner like magic.”

He pulled on her hand to draw her eyes to his, both of them shimmering with unshed tears and pain.

“Ye didna come, Claire. Why did ye wait so long?” He lifted her fingers to his lips, then kissed her wrist and held it to his cheek. “I willna be angry, or at least I’ll try no’ to be. But I need to ken.”

She nodded, the movement sending two tears over the edge of her eyelashes, trickling down her cheeks. Jamie tugged her closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, leaning to kiss each tear away. Then he rested his cheek on the top of her head and waited.

“I’ve always been a very logical person.” Claire’s voice came out raspy, but she cleared her throat and continued, “I work with my family, I help my uncle compile research, I am studying medicine to be a surgeon like my mother before me. Everything in my life made sense and was held together by rules that I lived by religiously.”

The curls tickled Jamie’s nose as she shook her head. “I broke the rules when I met you the first time, when we were children. And I broke them again when I decided to come to Leoch, knowing you were there. Every time I spoke with you I ended up out of control. My feelings, or my words. And it… it frightened me.”

He tightened his arms around her and his heart warmed when she snuggled deeper into the crook of his neck, reaching to hold his hands again.

“I think, as time went by, it felt safer to tell myself it was young love. That I blew it out of proportion, or…” she struggled to find the words. “I think I was afraid because if what I felt for you was real, then our love would change the trajectory of my whole life.”

She had one of his hands between both of hers now, feeling the tingle as she traced each finger from its tip to his palm.

“You can’t leave here. You belong at Lallybroch. And so, if I belong with you, that means I’ll never be a surgeon. I’m committing to live my life in the 1700s and be what I can be here in this time.” She took a deep shaky breath. “If it were anyone else, or anything else I wouldn’t do it. But it’s  _ you _ .”

Jamie felt the conflict in her and his heart ached. 

“Aye, I can see that I would be asking ye to give up what yer used to, and the opportunities ye have in yer own time. I—I wouldna blame ye, Claire. If ye chose to go back.”

“Like hell you wouldn’t,” she huffed.

Jamie felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth but he was too distraught to let humor pull his focus away from what she had said. If staying with him meant that she lost her calling, perhaps her family? It would be selfish to ask her to leave behind everything she knew. 

Claire pulled back, twisting to meet his eyes with her own. Twin fires of amber passion caught and held him helpless in their flame. 

“James Fraser,” she spoke with absolute conviction, “if I choose to stay here with you it won’t be a sacrifice. It will be because we are meant to be together. And it will be because nothing in the future could fill the hole that you were meant to fill in my life.”

Jamie leaned forward and kissed her, slowly, deliberately.

“I will love ye, always. Whatever ye decide, Sassenach.”

It was a heady feeling, having her here in his arms after so long. Her velvety tongue touched his bottom lip and he chased it with his own, tilting her chin to ease her further open to his attention. This Claire wasn’t holding back because of his age. She was giving herself over to him in ways she never allowed at Leoch, and Jamie felt a buzz of lust and joy in his mind as he let his hands wander from her face, down her body brushing past her breasts to tug her against him by the waist.

“Jamie,” she spoke against his lips, breaking away to catch her breath. “Jamie, I need you.” He had not yet recovered language skills but echoed her need with lips that moved from her cheeks to her neck. 

“Please,” she whispered. Her hands had been holding his shoulders but they began searching, frantically seeking down his body. Jamie moaned as her fingers followed the blood that had been steadily pumping south with the rapid beats of his heart. When she touched his cock through the fabric of his kilt he jerked forward with a cry and grasped her wrists.

“Wait, wait. Stop, Sassenach.” She stiffened with embarrassment, but he stopped her apology with his tongue before it could leave her mouth. “I want ye too. God, Claire. I do. But I’ll not take ye like this, not before we're wed.”

His hands on her wrists stopped her from touching him, but she leaned in and pressed the length of her body against him and his eyes lost focus again. 

_ Christ. _

“In my time, it’s common for people to sleep together before marriage. Women aren’t looked down on for expressing their sexuality.” She breathed the words as her mouth explored the underside of his jaw, finding the rough stubble with soft lips and tongue. “You taste so good.”

Jamie held on to her wrists for dear life. “Expressing yer sexuality?” He thought he should probably feel scandalized, if it was any other woman he’d think she had loose morals. But this was his Claire. She was perfect, like God had made her for him specifically out of every woman on earth; past, present or future.

“Yes. I don’t think having sex outside of wedlock is immoral.”

His heart stuttered. “Oh? And… have ye?”

She pulled back and he fought to control the expression in his face. He wouldn’t think less of her at all, he didn’t think. But there has been a burst of jealousy in his stomach thinking that another nameless man might have touched her. That the sweet sounds she’d been making for him might have left her lips for someone else.

“No, I haven’t.” She looked a little bashful. “My dad was born in 1900 and he’s a bit old-fashioned in his views. So, I personally don’t think it’s wrong, but I haven’t done it.”

Relief filled him, and he lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed them each in turn. 

“Yer Da sounds like a wise man. I’d be honored to meet him one day.”

Her answering smile sent a jolt of love and warmth through his chest. This was the Claire he recognized, and this familiarity made him more sure of himself. Not that he didn’t want to get to know the side of her that spoke of expressing her sexuality—he was very much interested in that—there would be plenty of time to explore the vixen when they wed.

“I think I should take ye to yer room for the night, Claire.” Jamie grinned when she pouted at him and pulled her to her feet. “When ye are mine, I’ll never leave yer bed, Sassenach.” He growled the words into the hollow of her ear as he walked her toward the guest chamber.

“So you say.” Claire quipped.

“Aye. But not until ye are mine.”


	9. April 14, 1740

[ ](https://ibb.co/6b3Vk8X)

_April 14, 1740_

“ _Ifrinn_ , this woman is a wee trollop _._ ”

Claire looked up from the book on botany she had found in Jared’s library and shot a nasty glare at her… 

_Boyfriend?_

There wasn’t quite a word in this century for what they were. His nose was buried in a copy of _Manon Lescaut_ , the French novel that had been banned when it was published in 1731 because of its scandalous storyline. Jared, of course, had acquired a pirated copy along with the rest of the sordid series written by the same author.

“This is the third time she’s left him for a richer man. And the lass has no shame, she expects him to take her back without protest. The poor fool keeps doing it too.”

The copper curls were loose and brushed his collar, shining like a new penny in the morning light. His blue eyes narrowed at the page, engrossed in the salacious story and making small Scottish noises of disapproval and disbelief as he read.

Claire laid a bookmark in the volume she had been reading and leaned her head against the back of the settee while she watched her… boyfriend. Every morning that Jamie didn’t have class they came to the sitting room to read together. He was normally studying Greek or Latin text, but the _Université_ was on break for the Easter holiday and Jamie had picked this novel from Jared’s vast selection.

It tickled her that he was completely fascinated by the 18th century version of trashy romantic smut.

Her stocking clad feet were tucked into his lap, and his big hand came to rest on her ankle, stroking idly with his thumb. She had been in Paris with him for almost 4 months, and in some respects the days had flown by. They didn’t attend many of the social functions, preferring instead their own company to the company of others. 

When Jamie was free from his studies they explored, both the city and each other, spending long hours walking along the Seine River and visiting shops and markets. Claire took him to the future site of the Eiffel Tower and drew him a picture of what the skyline would look like in 150 years.

And always, they talked. The connection between them deepened like the notes of flavor in an aged wine, and they reestablished the solid base of their friendship with a new dynamic of attraction and tension that hadn’t been acknowledged before.

Jamie’s fingers absently wandered up her calf and Claire felt him hardening slowly under the arch of her foot. She raised her book again inconspicuously but watched through her lashes as a flush crept up his neck. His eyes were still pinned to the pages, and she hid a smile wondering how graphic this scandalous novel could possibly be.

When she curled her toes against his erection Jamie yelped and dropped his book on the floor. 

Claire tried to look innocent as she glanced up at him. His ears were pink and the hand that had been running up her leg was now tight around her foot again holding it out of the danger zone.

_Out of the fun zone._

“What do ye think yer doing, Sassenach?” There was a smile in his voice despite his embarrassment.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, James.”

Their eyes locked, both brimming with a breathless amusement. Claire thought he was going to lean down and kiss her but he dropped his gaze to the feet he held in his hands covered by their serviceable everyday wool stockings.

“I’ve heard folk talk of places in the world where feet are considered verra erotic, _mo nighean donn._ ”

“Oh?” 

His strong thumbs rubbed a slow circle into the balls of her feet and then slid gently up her ankle.

“Aye.” Their eyes followed the path his hands made as they climbed beneath her skirts, up to her knee where he stopped to swallow deeply and seek out her gaze.

“I prefer legs, myself.”

This was further than he had ever gone with her before. Jamie had been the quintessential gentleman during those four months, holding them both in check when their kissing crossed further than the arbitrary line he had in his mind for what was acceptable.

His blue eyes held hers now as his fingers found the top of her stockings held in place with a length of ribbon.

“You have a thing for legs, do you?” She felt goosebumps break out over her skin as Jamie’s wandering hands traced the circumference of her thigh.

“Aye, well. I have a thing for what they connect to, ken?”

Her eyes widened, and then he realized what she was thinking and his filled with horror.

“No! I didna mean, I meant yer arse. God. Claire, I’m sorry.” Jamie was up on his feet rubbing his hands over his face that was bright red with mortification.

She dissolved into a giggling mess, weak and helpless to sit back up. Every time she looked at him she laughed harder until she was clutching her ribs and crying. He stood watching her with a wry smile tugging at his lips, then sat down again sighing in resignation.

“That’s what I get fer trying to impress ye with my clever tongue, is it?”

That sent her again, and he chuckled softly and pulled her up to rest her head in the curve of his shoulder until she calmed down, stroking her neck and back and speaking to her in soothing incomprehensible Gaelic. After a while, she found she could breathe normally again and relaxed against the reassuring solidness of his body.

“Hmmm, so you are an ass man. That’s good to know.” A wide amused smile stretched across her face but she kept her composure.

“If by ‘ass man’ ye mean I’m rather taken by yer sweet plump bottom, then aye.”

“You are better at being sweet than being sexy.” Claire pulled him down and pressed her lips against his. “It’s not a bad thing, I like it.” She smoothed the furrow between his brows. “Lots of men try to seduce a girl with suave words and innuendo. I much prefer your straightforward appreciation of my… arse.”

Jamie’s lips curved up into a smile. “I do appreciate it verra much.” He kissed her forehead and leaned his cheek against her hair. 

“So, tell me about yer time at _L'Hôpital_ this week, _mo ghraidh_.” 

Claire felt a thrill run through her. While Jamie spent most of his days studying philosophy and languages, she had been on a mission to find out what kind of doctor she could reasonably be in the 18th century.

It took a few weeks to adjust herself to the idea that following in her mother’s footsteps did not have to mean a posh operating room with modern medical equipment. As luck would have it, Paris was the home of _L'Hôpital des Anges_ , a Charity hospital run by the formidable Mother Hildegarde.

Claire had walked in and been put right to work emptying bedpans and giving sponge baths for patients with every injury and illness under the sun. The Mother Superior had agreed to take her on as an apprentice and Claire was there nearly every day. She recognized symptoms of diseases that she had only read about so far in her schooling.

“Oh, Jamie. It has been wonderful. Yesterday I got to treat a skull fracture, and you should have seen the look on the sister’s face when I asked for a drill!”

He listened to her with wide eyed amazement and a measure of nausea that he swallowed down bravely. Claire saw it and took pity on him, omitting some of the more fascinating details of her story.

“All that to say,” she smiled as she noted his breath of relief, “I think I can be happy just being a doctor here. I know Lallybroch will be different yet than a city like Paris, but with my studies in botany I know that I can help so many people and improve things like personal hygiene and preventative care…”

“Do ye mean that, Claire?” He was suddenly kneeling in front of her and gripping her hands tightly, blue eyes burning into hers from inches away. His intensity startled her into silence and he read the incomprehension on her face. “Do ye mean that you can be happy here wi’ me, Sassenach? Do ye mean that ye are willing to stay?”

“Oh, Jamie,” she felt a sharp pain when she realized how afraid he had been. How had she not seen that all these months he feared she would leave him? Her hands came up to frame his face and she pulled him in until his nose brushed hers. 

“Yes. Yes, James Fraser. I will stay here with you.”

His lips were on hers before the words left her mouth; a shallow, joyful kiss broken by laughter and tears. Jamie twined his fingers into her curls and she slid from the settee down to his lap, straddling his strong legs and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Her lips curved against his kiss when one big hand slid down her back and cupped her bottom, pressing her _just right_ against his aching hardness.

“Ass man.” She giggled and gasped when his arms tightened and a deep chuckle reverberated through his frame. 

“Christ, I’ll forever think yer calling me a mule.”

The hand squeezed gently and they both moaned. Claire’s whole body felt like it was on fire. The electricity between them sizzled with every touch, and she felt an urgency in her core that forced her hips to grind down on him, desperate for the relief that his body promised hers.

“ _A nighean,_ ” Jamie panted in her ear, a note of caution in his voice, but his touch belied his words, clutching the back of her neck and the curve of her arse. 

Claire yanked at his stock, trying to untie it by feel alone and let out a frustrated growl as her fingers pulled at the knot. He wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing at all, both palms had dropped to her hips and his long fingers gripped and pulled her against him, over and over.

Suddenly she felt the power between her thighs intensify, building rapidly, and then Jamie’s entire body went still as death. His eyes were clenched shut, and it took her a moment to realize what had happened.

“Jamie…” 

“Oh god.” His forehead dropped to her shoulder. “ _Iffrin,_ I’m sorry Sassenach.” He lifted her aside and came to his feet, haunched forward to try to hide the stain spreading on his breeches.

“That’s okay, Jamie. I understand.” Her lips twitched upward but Claire forced herself to look down and away, giving him time to collect himself. 

“This is the second time I’ve made a fool of myself in front of ye today, Sassenach. And the day is young yet.”

He had stepped over to the fireplace to adjust himself, and stood now looking down at the flames flickering orange and yellow and blue.

“Ye’ll stay with me?” It was almost a whisper, a small request for reassurance. Claire stood and went to him, taking his hands and forcing him to meet her eyes.

“I will stay with you.” She answered simply. 

He studied her face, the glowing pink of embarrassment slowly fading from his own. Then, evidently satisfied with what he saw there, he pulled her against his chest and they stood wrapped in each other’s arms, content just to be together without the threat of a looming separation ahead.


	10. May 12, 1740

[ ](https://ibb.co/ZSnqs5t)

_  
May 12, 1740 _

Claire hopped out of the carriage and raced up the steps of Jared’s house, waving at Jamie’s anxious face watching from the upper window. She was late, and there wouldn’t be much time now to prepare for their first official  _ soirée _ since she arrived in France all those months ago.

_ God damn it all to hell. _

Despite the large apron she had worn at  _ L'Hôpital _ , her cuffs were speckled with blood and she had stepped in something questionable on her way out the door. Claire kicked her shoes off in the entryway and the butler took one whiff, grimaced and nodded, whisking them away while Claire padded in her stockings up the grand stairs.

“Sassenach, I was beginning to think I’d have to come fetch ye.”

Jamie was waiting at the top of the steps and pulled her into his arms when she reached him. Claire accepted his embrace, but she was already trying to move toward her chamber a moment later, huffing in frustration when he detained her.

“I have to clean up…” He bent and kissed her open mouth, muffling her protest as his hands slid down her waist. Claire allowed him three extra seconds before pulling firmly away. “No more!” She tossed a grin over her shoulder and shut the door on his forlorn groan of protest.

There would be time for that nonsense later.

There was a hot bath already steaming by the fire and a sweet dark haired maid named Amélie was laying out the dress Jared had insisted on for the occasion. “Thank God for you, Amélie.” Claire hastily loosened her laces and slipped out of the practical work dress.

“Tis no trouble,  _ mademoiselle. _ Do you wish me to stay and style your hair?”

The curls in question were sticking out all over her head, but thankfully, clean. There was no way the heavy mass would dry if she tried to wash it now.

“Yes, please! I don’t know what to do with it.” Claire sank into the water with a moan and quickly started scrubbing her body down with scented soap. It was a shame to not have time to relax in the hot bath after a day like this one, but the carriage was due to leave in an hour and she was excited to attend the ball with Jamie in the beautiful burgundy satin gown waiting for her.

When she was pink all over from the vigorous scrubbing, Claire climbed out of the tub and dried her dripping skin with a linen towel, then slipped on a robe and stepped close to the fire to let her body dry completely. Amélie beckoned her to sit on a low stool and began combing out her curls into careful ringlets.

“We will leave it down,  _ mademoiselle.  _ With the curls pinned to one side.  _ Monsieur _ will be in awe, I promise it.”

The maid’s sure fingers were twisting and pinning as she spoke, and soon she held a hand mirror before Claire’s face to observe her work.

“Oooh, Amélie, you are a genius!” Her hair was beautifully arranged to elegantly ripple down her neck and shoulder. Claire leaned over and hugged the girl gratefully. “Now, for the dress!”

It took some time to tie and lace her into the proper underclothes, but when the heavy satin swished over her head Claire felt instantly transformed from medical apprentice to fine lady.

The dress was the color of deep red wine, contrasting her pale skin and dark hair. The neck scooped low and framed her breasts that were plumped up with the tight stays. 

_ Jamie will like that. _ She thought with a small twinge of satisfaction.

Amélie was fastening a necklace and earrings, loans from Jared, and then Claire stepped into the soft slippers and she was ready. She took the fan offered by her maid and thanked her once more before stepping out the door looking like a completely different woman than the one who had entered.

Jamie stood at the end of the hall and he turned at the sound of the door. He started toward her but froze when she stepped into the last rays of the evening sun streaming in the big oval window above the stairs.

“ _ Mo chridhe.” _

Claire felt a thrill through her core at the look in his eyes. It was a look she had witnessed on her father’s face a thousand times when his eyes rested on her mom. It took her breath away, and her stomach fluttered as she accepted the trust and devotion he offered in that one look.

Jamie cleared his throat and lifted his hand to gently trace a single curl as it bounced down to brush the top of her breast.

“ _ Mo nighean donn…  _ my brown haired lass.” The words came out a whisper.

Claire smiled softly and mimicked his move, touching the curls glowing on his head like a hot coal in the sunset.

“Am I to call you my red-haired lad, then?”

His lips twitched upward. “Ye can if ye’d like.”

The blue eyes were still on her hair, and he bit his full bottom lip in a way that made it impossible for her to look away.

“The first thing I saw of ye, all that time ago, was yer curly wig in the bracken. I thought it looked like water tumbling down the rocks in the bern behind Lallybroch.”

“Like muddy water?” Claire glanced away, always self conscious of her unruly locks.

His brow furrowed and he shook his head, his calloused finger marking the path of another curl. “Nah,  _ mo chridhe. _ Look, it ripples over yer shoulder like a wee waterfall sparkling in the sunshine. It’s rich and deep in the shady spots, then it glows like burnished copper where the light shines through.” The finger hovered over her collarbone, having reached the end of its silky path.

Her chest rose with a sharp inhale and his fingertips met her skin. Claire’s eyes drifted shut and she held her breath as he stroked along her neckline, feather light over the concave of her shoulder and soft swell of her breast. He paused at the shadowed crevice, blinked, and lifted his hand.

“I’m sorry, Sassenach. I dinna ken what came over me.” He leaned in to kiss her forehead and then offered her his arm. “Jared is in the carriage waiting. So, shall we go, _ a nighean _ ?”

  
  
  


—

  
  
  


The 22nd century in all its modern convenience had nothing on the pageantry and luxury of a Parisian  _ soirée _ . 

Claire sipped on a glass of red wine as she took it all in. They were the  _ bourgeois _ , the wealthy middle class of French society. Very few here were actually of noble birth, but had made their fortunes through business or trade. 

Young men had been approaching Jamie with loud greetings and handshakes since they first arrived. Apparently he was very popular at the _Université,_ and since her arrival had not been attending the social events he normally would frequent. His classmates seemed delighted at his presence and curious at hers.

She wondered how much, if anything, he had told them of her.

The beautiful sounds of a string quartet filled the drawing room and couples began pairing off to dance. Jamie’s hand tightened on her waist as he turned from the conversation he had been engaged in. His face was flushed with the heat of the room and the free flowing alcohol, but he bowed over her hand with a twinkle in his eye.

“ _ Ma dulcinée, _ might I have this dance?”

He swept her round the floor with surprising skill, and Claire felt the eyes of many of the younger guests on them as they turned and stepped to the lilting music. She held herself straight and let Jamie guide her with a strong arm around her back.

“People are staring at us, Jamie.” She tilted her chin up to look at him and felt her chest warm as she realized he had been watching her face since they started dancing. 

“Aye, they are. Does that bother you,  _ mo ghraidh? _ ”

“Maybe a little,” she tightened her hand on his shoulder.

His eyes were dark and intent on hers, and his cheek dimpled slightly when a smile tugged at his mouth. “They’re staring because ye are beautiful, Sassenach. Because they’ve never seen a creature so bewitching and lovely.” She let out a soft scoff and shook her head, and he narrowed his eyes at her self-deprecation. “And all the lads are staring at me because they dinna ken how I managed to show up at their wee party with a faerie on my arm.”

“I’m not a fairy, James Fraser.”

“Och, but ye are. My bonnie wee faerie love.”

Their gaze was broken as they nearly ran into another couple, and the look of panic on Jamie’s face made Claire shake with laughter. He pulled her quickly out to the terrace and ducked behind the door where they clutched each other’s hands and giggled together.

“Let me find ye a drink, Sassenach? I’ll be right back.” He kissed her swiftly and disappeared into the crowded house again leaving her with the sharp taste of whisky on her lips. Claire sighed and leaned against the wall in the shadow behind the door, closing her eyes and listening to the beautiful melody floating from the drawing room.

“Who is  _ cette fille _ on  _ Monsieur  _ Fraser’s arm tonight.  _ Savez-vous? _ ”

Claire started, her ears picking up Jamie’s surname from a voice just inside the house behind her and then curiosity gripped her as she strained her ears to hear the reply.

“I have certainly never seen her before. Have you spoken with Annalise? She must be furious.”

_ Annalise? _

The owners of the voices moved on and faded into the buzz of conversation, but Claire’s thoughts melded and twisted together alone on the darkened terrace. Jamie had told her Annalise was only a friend when she first saw him again. Why would she be furious? Maybe she had hoped to mean more to him; Claire certainly couldn’t blame her for that. But Jamie was hers. He had been hers long before he came to Paris, and he was hers even more now. 

The object of her thoughts reappeared so suddenly that she jumped. He handed her a drink and wove his strong fingers into the curls at the base of her neck, watching her with dark hungry eyes. When she took a sip and swallowed his lips were there, pressing her mouth open and tasting the rich wine on her tongue.

_ Annalise who? _

Claire pulled Jamie closer, wrapping her arm around his neck to keep possession of his mouth. He stepped in, pressing her against the wall with his body, hands spanning her waist and thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts.

“Careful, Sassenach. I dinna want to spill yer glass.”

“It’s the same color as my dress. No one will notice.”

He chuckled against her lips and moved down to the pulse point under her jaw, licking and nibbling along the white column of her neck. Both big hands covered her breasts now, and Claire realized he was a little worse for drink than she had thought. Her whole body tingled where he touched her, and her nipples rubbed against his palms begging for attention.

“God, I hate people.” He panted, “When can I take ye home?”

“We haven’t been here that long.” Claire’s back arched off the wall when he bit down lightly on the base of her neck.

“I need ye, Claire.” 

Another group of dancers came out to the terrace in a flurry of voices, and the lovers broke apart, holding each other and trying to control their breathing. Claire’s blood was rushing in her ears so loud it was a moment before she realized they were talking about Jamie.

“—all I know is one day he was head over kilt for Annalise and the next time anyone saw him he was making love eyes at the English chit...”

Jamie had his face buried in her hair and she didn’t think he had heard them, but he felt her body stiffen in his arms and he lifted his head to see her. 

“What is it, Sassenach?”

A sharp feminine voice cut through the others, “ _ Mon frère _ was at the duel between  _ Monsieurs _ Fraser and Gauloise. You heard that Fraser bested him, no? But Annalise ran to her Charles instead and Fraser left in a fit of rage. I believe he found this English  _ fille _ as a consolation prize.”

The conversation buzzed on, but she didn’t hear them. Jamie’s entire body was rigid and his eyes burned into hers again, but the difference between this current expression and his passion from before was chilling. Claire felt her body icing over, pulling away from him even as they stood flush against one another.

“Claire,” he breathed her name almost silently but it hit her chest like a bomb.

She could not unclench her teeth. Her jaw ached trying to contain a sob that would give them away behind the propped open door, and there was no way in hell she would let anyone here see her cry. They stood in tense silence as the gossiping crowd returned to the drawing room for the next dance. When the terrace was still again Jamie took a step back. 

“I can explain, Claire…”

“Is it true?” She stared with stinging eyes at Jamie’s face, willing him to give her a reasonable explanation for what she just heard.

“It is partially true, but I wasna in love wi’ the lass. Please, Sassen—”

“Do  _ not  _ call me that.”

The venom in her voice startled both of them. Jamie’s face fell, like everything he loved in the world had been snatched from his hands, and Claire found she recognized the expression because that was how she felt too. Her fingers shook and she twisted them together and dropped her gaze to the ground.

“Alright… Claire. I’m sorry.” He spoke carefully. “Let me get the carriage, and we can go back to the house and talk about this. Please,  _ mo gh… _ please.”

She nodded and cleared her throat. “I need to find the powder room and then I’ll come meet you.”

He swallowed, his hand half reaching for hers, but she shied away. 

“God, Claire.” His deep voice was choked with tears, but she kept her face down refusing to look at him. When he opened his mouth to speak again she cut him off. 

“I’m not going to disappear. I’ll come back with you and listen to what you have to say. Fucking... shit.” Two tears breached her cheeks and she swiped them away furiously. “But... right now, I need you to leave me alone for just a minute. Can you do that?”

“Aye,” he whispered. Her eyes slid shut to block the pain that radiated from his body, and when she opened them he was gone.

Claire waited barely a minute to compose her features before hurrying back inside. She smiled and nodded on autopilot as she passed people, making excuses while she picked her way across the crowd to the facilities. 

When she pushed open the door with a sigh of relief she was brought up short, face to face with a delicate blond girl wearing a stunning dress of sky blue silk. 

“Excuse me,  _ mademoiselle, _ I did not see you there.”

The girl’s eyes lit up with pleasure as she picked up on Claire’s accent.

“Bien sûr! You are the mysterious English flower that our Jamie has been so taken with. I had hoped to make your acquaintance tonight,  _ ma chérie. _ My name is Annalise de Marillac.”

Claire stared stupidly at the girl in front of her. She was a vision. Her flaxen hair cascaded in ringlets that framed her china doll face with a perfect milky complexion. Everything about her was small and dainty, and she radiated a charming charisma that made Claire want to smile back at her despite herself.

“I… I’m Claire Beauchamp. It’s nice to meet you.” She nodded automatically to the other woman and stepped around her to move further into the room. To her dismay, Annalise turned and came back in with her chatting eagerly.

“I saw you dancing with Jamie earlier. What a darling couple you make! So dashing together, the dark and the bright. I do so hope to get to speak to him tonight, we parted on terrible terms,  _ vous connaissez? _ ”

Claire dabbed her face with a wet cloth, trying desperately to calm down. What the fuck was she supposed to do? Orchestrate a meeting between Jamie and his former lover? She breathed deeply through her nose, pushed her emotions below the surface and turned to Annalise.

“We were actually just leaving, but if you come with me I’m sure you can speak to him before we go.”

They left the powder room and Annalise grabbed Claire’s arm, making their way to the front entrance of the house.

_How did your life change so completely in the course of an evening, Beauchamp?_

More than one group of ladies gaped wide-eyed as they appeared together and whispered behind fans as they passed. Annalise remained completely oblivious, chatting away beside Claire as if they had been friends for years. Claire was lost in her chaotic thoughts and didn’t hear anything she said, but nodded and forced her mouth into what she hoped was a polite smile.

When Jamie saw them from where he stood at the front steps the horror on his face would have been comical in any other scenario. Her spine stiffened, tamping down the customary warm flood of love that tried to fill her chest at the sight of his face. Their carriage stood ready in the drive and Claire was desperate to escape before Annalise spoke with Jamie, so she turned before they reached him, saying a swift but polite farewell.

She didn’t look at Jamie as she passed and climbed into the carriage, but her eyes betrayed her when she was seated in the shadows and she could observe his interaction with Annalise without detection.

The girl’s face shone with joy, making her all the more beautiful in the dim light. Claire couldn’t make out what she said, but she saw Jamie nod once, twice, and then Annalise stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek and wrap her arms around his neck.

Claire’s heart went numb as the moment passed, then Jamie set her firmly away and turned toward the carriage.

Her eyes were back in her control when he settled across from her and closed the door. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and reached out to touch her shoulder.

“Claire, that wasna anything. She apologized for that morning and asked my forgiveness. I didna ken she would talk to ye.”

“What morning was it?”

His fingers on her shoulder tightened and Claire flinched. Jamie’s hand dropped to his lap. He didn’t speak for a moment. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head trying to find a way to soften the blow.

“It was… the morning ye came. I had just gotten back from the duel when ye arrived. God. Please forgive me, Claire.”

He had dropped his face to his hands and sat there breathing heavily. She couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t say anything. Her throat felt as if it was full of sand and she swallowed repeatedly, trying to rid herself of the uncomfortable tightness she found there.

The heavy silence was unbroken through the short ride across town, and to her relief they pulled in front of Jared’s house without any further attempts at conversation. 

Jamie climbed out of the carriage quickly and turned to offer her his hand, which she hesitated, but took to avoid a scene. She had just stepped down and straightened her skirt when a familiar voice called out from the street behind them.

“Claire!”

Everything inside her melted with relief at the sound of that voice. A sob wrenched from deep in her belly and she stumbled into her father’s arms, leaving Jamie slack-jawed and frozen on the cobblestones behind her.


	11. Still May 12, 1740

[ ](https://ibb.co/MsgbQVq)

_ May 12, 1740 _

  
  


“Claire!”

Jamie stared in frozen disbelief as the woman he loved stumbled away from him and fell into the embrace of another man. The stranger had caught her with obvious familiarity and was rubbing her back as she cried deep gasping sobs against his shoulder. Jamie felt her absence from his own arms like a knife in the gut.

“Claire, baby. What’s wrong?”

The man’s entire focus was centered on the girl in his arms, and when Jamie stepped forward his eyes shot up, noticing him for the first time. He had to be from the future. His words had the strange cadence and informality that Claire’s often did. Jamie cleared his throat, pushing aside the fear and shame that had eaten him alive for the past hour.

“We should go inside.” Jamie hesitated, unsure of how she would respond to him. “Claire... will ye come?”

To his relief, she nodded and pulled back from the stranger, wiping her eyes and nose. She didn’t look at him, but took the man’s hand and pulled him toward the house.

“Come in, Daddy. We can talk in the parlor.”

_ Her father. _

Jamie followed behind them with his mind in turmoil. He had dreamed of meeting Claire’s parents. At any other time, this would be a welcome surprise, but tonight he was desperate to speak with her alone. To explain what had just happened and apologize for his part in it. He felt panic and despair twist together in his stomach. If he should lose her over this, he would never forgive himself.

The fire was crackling in the parlor and Jamie walked to stand by the mantle, too anxious to sit down. Claire lowered herself to the settee, but her father glanced at Jamie and stepped over with his hand extended and Jamie reached out to shake it automatically.

“Fraser, right? It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Henry Beauchamp. Claire’s father.”

Jamie nodded and tried to smile, but his lips trembled and his throat was too tight to speak. Henry Beauchamp studied his reaction, then looked back at his daughter who kept her eyes on the fan she was twiddling with in her lap. His eyes were shrewd as he evaluated the atmosphere between the two young adults.

No one spoke for a long minute and Jamie wanted to crawl into the fire and die. He was intensely aware of Claire, the way her body was turned away from him, the fact she hadn’t looked at him since the carriage. He needed to speak with her, but the thought of her father hearing him admit that he had pursued another woman in her absence made him feel sick.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Henry laid a large, warm hand on his shoulder and Jamie looked up into dark eyes full of compassion.

“I can tell something happened between the two of you, Jamie. May I call you Jamie?”

His voice was so warm and kind, Jamie felt his anxiety ease. He nodded wordlessly and Henry continued.

“I trust you to work that out, between you and Claire. But there is something I need to ask you before I share what I came to say.” He tightened his hand on Jamie’s shoulder and held his eyes. 

“Do you love my daughter?”

“Aye.” Jamie blinked away the tears that had sprung into his eyes. _ Christ,  _ he loved her _. _ For better or worse, whether she left him today or never, he loved her to the depths of his soul.

Henry was watching him intently and nodded. “Good. Come sit, I have news.”

He sat down beside Claire and she leaned her head on his shoulder with her eyes closed. Jamie settled into a chair facing them and watched as Henry wrapped his arm around her and kissed her hair. “I missed you, kiddo. Mom says hi.”

Her mouth twisted in sorrow that Jamie felt deep in his chest. His hands ached to touch her, to comfort her somehow, but he held them still.

“Did you get my message?” She asked, and Henry nodded. Shortly after she arrived, she had penned a letter to a relative who lived in London during this time. There was a house that would stay in the family and a special desk where messages could be left; all carefully dated and organized to be distributed to the intended family member at the proper time. Claire had explained to him the concept of safe deposit boxes that wouldn’t be established yet for many years, but would become one way the Beauchamp family left messages for each other through the centuries. The logistics of communication for time travelers fascinated him.

“Okay, kids. Let me tell you what’s going on.” Henry sat forward and looked Jamie in the eye. “Before I start, this is going to affect you directly, Jamie. So I need to ask if you are comfortable hearing about the events that will happen over the next few years in Scotland. These events could be your future, though they are not set in stone. Normally we don’t attempt to change history, but this is an exception. History has already been altered and we need to change it back.”

Jamie held his eyes and nodded, swallowing hard. He listened as Henry laid out a timeline of what would be his near future. He knew the history of the Jacobite risings before his birth; attempts to regain the throne of Great Britain for James II and the House of Stuart. Henry revealed that another rising was being discussed now and would be executed in 1745.

“Charles Stuart attempted a poorly planned and poorly funded takeover of the throne. But the support that had been promised to him never came, and he was leading an untrained army of Highlanders against the British Army.” Henry hesitated, then continued. “What  _ should _ happen, or what  _ did _ happen up until last week, is that Charles Stuart died. The Highlanders advanced into Derby but he finally had to admit the reinforcements he had promised them weren’t coming. He was poisoned that same evening and the army dispersed peacefully.”

“Was it murder?” Jamie asked, wide-eyed.

“It would seem so,” Henry answered. “The redcoats made several arrests of key Jacobite leaders, but for the most part the Highland way of life remained relatively intact for hundreds of years after that.”

Claire had been listening silently, her eyes solemn as she took in her father’s words. He had stopped speaking, seemingly gathering his thoughts for how to tell them what had happened next.

“What changed last week, Dad?” 

Henry’s face was dark and troubled. He reached for Claire’s hand and pressed her knuckles to his lips before folding it into his own.

“I’ve never seen it happen to this extent, sweetie. The books literally changed overnight. All of Lamb’s research was still there, but when you look at the source material, Charles no longer dies. The army straggled on, they were starving and exhausted, but he pushed them to engage with the British on Culloden Moor in April of 1745 and they were annihilated. The outcome of the war is the same, but now the English wipe out the clans, ban the wearing of tartan, and massacre thousands of men on the battlefield. It’s a nightmare for Scotland.”

He looked over at Claire again, “I’m sure you’ve guessed. But we found Jack Randall got himself stationed at Ft. William in late 1739.”

“I knew it had to be the Randalls.” She glanced over at Jamie for the first time, dropping her eyes quickly when she found him watching her.

His heart twisted sharply, but he forced his attention back to Henry. “Who are the Randalls?” He was surprised to hear his voice so calm. Everything he had just heard was crashing through his senses, threatening to overwhelm him. In just five years, his entire life might be destroyed. Da and Jenny and… his focus drifted to Claire again before he pulled it away.

“Our family aren’t the only ones with the ability to time travel. There are several others that we know of, but most don’t use it for a global purpose the way we do. The only other family with a similar level of organization is the Randalls.”

Jamie’s head hurt but he tried to follow. “And one of them is in Scotland now?”

“Yes.” Henry cleared his throat and Jamie stood to pour him a dram, thankful for the excuse to move. “We have encountered different members of the Randall family throughout history, and they tend to use their ability to travel to manipulate history in their favor.”

Jamie handed him a glass of whisky and held another out to Claire, who softly thanked him under her breath as she took it without looking up. 

“Jack Randall is one we’ve dealt with before. He’s an old arch enemy of mine, I guess you’d say.” Henry shook his head, deep in thought. “The trouble with trying to stop him is: we don’t know his precise motives. We don’t know why he is changing things or what he’s after. All we can do is use Lamb’s research to compare what happened before with what happens now, and try to find what Randall does to change the course of history.”

The three sat in silence, sipping whisky and contemplating Henry’s words.

“There’s… something else.” Henry sighed. “I know this is a lot all at once, especially for you, Jamie. But Lamb has already found a significant way that Randall changes history, and it’s partially why I came to Paris instead of going through in Scotland.”

He finished off his glass and set it down. “Jamie, your name came up in Lamb’s initial research of the rising. In the years before the battle, you spent time here in Paris with Charles Stuart and became one of his trusted advisors. Your name was also signed as a supporter of Stuart and the rising in 1744. But…”

“But what?” Claire’s voice cracked, and Jamie realized she was holding back tears. He wondered if she was thinking about how a war like this would impact their future. Was she second guessing if she loved him enough to stay? After the fiasco with Annalise, maybe this was too much for her to bear.

It took a moment for him to hear what Henry was saying. He blinked several times, shaking his head to clear it.

“Now that history has shifted… prison records show that Jack Randall executes you at Ft. William, in October of this year.”

  
  
  


—

  
  
  


Jamie stood in the darkened hallway, unable to sleep. Henry had insisted that he had lodging elsewhere and left hours before, promising to meet them for breakfast in the morning. Jared came home from the  _ soirée  _ just after he left, and Claire snuck to her chamber while Jamie was detained talking to his cousin.

He couldn’t barge in and demand that she speak with him. But neither could he rest when his mind was in this state. The events of the evening repeated in his head, starting with the terrible moment when Claire stiffened in his arms on the terrace, and culminating with her father bringing him news of his own death mere months away.

Even with his reassurance that the Beauchamp family would protect him and was working tirelessly to thwart Randall’s plan, Jamie felt like a dead man. What future could he offer her now? 

A soft whisper of footsteps behind him broke into his thoughts. Jamie turned quickly to find Claire standing in the moonlight, the outline of her lythe body clearly visible through the gauzy fabric of her night shift.

“Jamie,” she whispered. Then she was wrapped around him like fog on the moor. His eyes closed and he shook with sorrow and fear and relief as he crushed her body to his.

“Claire,  _ mo chridhe. _ I love you. I’m sorry. Claire, I’m so sorry.”

Tears flooded his eyes and spilled over to dampen her curls, but he rocked her gently, feeling the spasms of her own sobs wracking her body. A door closed somewhere in the distance and Jamie pulled her into his chamber for privacy. He started to move toward the seats by the fire, but Claire pulled his hand and led him to the bed.

“Will you lay with me?” She asked thickly. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Jamie nodded, unable to deny her anything. It was half past one in the morning and his head was pounding from all the emotion he had experienced in the past hours. He stripped down to his sark and slipped beside her under the covers.

Claire settled against his chest and they both breathed a shuddering sigh of relief.

“Lass, about earlier tonight…”

“Shhh,” she cut him off and gripped his hand between her two small ones. “I don’t want to talk about anything else right now, Jamie. Just sleep with me.”

He fell silent, grateful to be spared another lengthy conversation, but feeling a sense of unease that they hadn’t yet worked out the conflict between them. Claire seemed to want to let it go, so he tried to push it from his mind, at least for now.

They drifted, a tangle of limbs and hands clinging and pulling each other closer. Her hot breath marked the dip in the center of his chest, and he rested his chin in the soft bed of her curls. 

“I love you too,” He almost missed her whisper but for the tightening of her grip when she said it. Jamie kissed her temple and fell into an exhausted sleep.


	12. May 21, 1740

[ ](https://ibb.co/xzn7Hj4)

_ May 21, 1740 _

Claire gently floated toward awareness, noticing in a detached way the feeling of being held securely in a warm cocoon and the feather light strokes of the morning sun sliding across her skin.

Languid contentment slowly coiled itself into an ache low in her belly, tighter and hotter than was comfortable. Claire frowned, trying to regain the sense of utter peace she had been basking in moments before. But the ache was insistent, the warm sun gliding like large calloused hands over her sensitive flesh and lighting it on fire from within.

She squirmed and gasped, whimpering against the insistent assault of those hands that pulled her from slumber, and a low voice rumbled in her ear, “Yer so verra lovely,  _ mo ghraidh _ .”

_ Jamie. _

She reached out blindly and found his chest, smooth and tense under the linen sark he wore to bed. She clutched it in her fists as his hand moved, hot as the sun, blazing up over the flare of her hip and then climbing her ribcage.

The nervous system is connected all throughout the body, and everywhere he touched sent sparks of pulsing electricity to her breasts and between her legs. She was curled on her side facing Jamie and laying close enough that his erection nestled in the hollow of her lap and twitched against her stomach, answering the deep throbbing pulse she felt there.

Claire opened blurry eyes to find him propped up on one elbow exploring her body through the fabric of her shift. His finger circled her nipple which rose up under the cotton to meet his touch. A sharp inhale made her breast swell up toward him and he bit his lip as his palm cupped the soft flesh.

He looked up then, and seeing that she was awake he leaned in to press a kiss to her mouth which Claire kept closed, not wanting him to take offense to her morning breath. 

“Sassenach,” his whisper was hoarse in her ear. “May I see ye,  _ mo nighean donn _ ?” His wandering hand rubbed up and down gently, stimulating her nipple and pulling a high pitched sound of longing from her throat that made her flush and cover her face with her hands in embarrassment.

Jamie laughed softly, kissing the back of each hand covering her eyes, then nuzzled his long nose in between and found her mouth with his own. This time he pressed her open, tasting her tongue and humming with pleasure.

“May I look at ye, Claire?” He whispered again against her lips, and she could only nod. She would give him anything at all in this moment, with his hands warm on her skin and his eyes a brilliant blue in the dawn light. They glowed with love that filled her chest and overflowed, tingling through her until she buzzed with the joy of it.

Claire pulled her shift up, awkwardly lifting her hips and then shoulders to get it over her head. By the time it was finally off she was puffing and self-conscious, but the wonder on Jamie’s face held her still. His eyes were riveted on her breasts, which must have bounced considerably as she struggled out of the shift, and now shone pearly white in the sunshine with a rosy flush rising between them and climbing up her chest.

“Will you say something?” She felt exposed, but fought the urge to cover up.

Jamie looked startled, but his cheek dimpled at her. “I havena ever seen a naked woman before, so I dinna have anything to compare ye to, but…” His eyes drifted down her body and he lifted a hand, letting it hover an inch above her waist. “ _ Christ, _ I canna look at ye and keep my hands from ye. Ye take my breath away, Claire.”

She watched that hand as it moved down, hesitating and finally resting on her stomach, nearly spanning her hip to hip. She could hear Jamie’s breath quicken as his thumb stroked her soft skin.

“Jamie,” his hands and his eyes on her body stoked the aching fire that had been smouldering in her abdomen since she woke up. He wet his bottom lip and she instinctively pressed her thighs together, trying to appease her body’s demands.

“Aye,  _ mo chridhe _ ?” His fingers slid down her thigh lightly, noting how her body tensed when he touched her. “Do ye want me to stop?”

Claire clutched his shirt and gasped as he ascended back up her leg and traced her hip bone. She could feel his cock, hard and urgent against her side, but he ignored it, gently exploring her with his hand. 

“No, no don’t stop, but… will you touch me? There?”

He hesitated, and Claire knew a moment of panic, fearing that he would refuse. But then she felt his breath against her nipple a moment before his tongue touched it, tentatively laving over the hardened peak and exploring the contrasting softness of her breast surrounding it.

She whimpered and arched up into his mouth, feeling rather than hearing his groan vibrate through her ribcage. His hand dropped to her pelvis and held her down against the mattress, sending a zap of electricity up her spine. She dropped her thighs apart, willing him to move his attention lower.

Jamie lifted his head and kissed her, then panted against her lips. “Claire, I dinna ken… will ye show me how to touch ye, how to make ye feel good,  _ mo ghraidh _ ?” 

Swallowing hard, Claire turned her face into his neck and squeezed her eyes closed. She let her hand drop down, smoothing over her body. When she reached his hand, she moved hers underneath it, then pulled him down with her to the soft curls between her thighs.

She stroked over them lightly, drawing his fingers down to where they grew damp from her slick core and back up, over and over until he picked up the rhythm and continued it. His left hand wrapped in the hair at the back of her neck and pulled her up into his mouth, kissing her urgently. Claire pressed on the back of his hand until his fingers slid deeper, coated in her arousal and she guided them to the entrance that ached for him. 

He kept gliding up and down her slick folds, and she jerked her hips up when his fingers didn’t fill her. She realized after a moment that he didn’t understand what she wanted, and she broke from his lips to put his hand back in position and whispered, “Here, Jamie. Here, inside me.”

He pushed tentatively into her body, one long finger sliding deep inside to stroke the source of her wanting. Claire could feel the tension coiling tighter and higher in her womb as he moved in and out of her core, watching her intently to learn what made her gasp and arch and cry out. His mouth caught the sounds falling from her lips to claim them as his own. He surrounded her, cradling and pushing her toward a peak he didn’t know existed until she tumbled over the edge, clenched and pulsing tightly around his hand buried in her sex.

When she could hear and see again he was stroking the curls back from her forehead and holding her tight to absorb each aftershock that gripped her body. Her thighs held his wrist in a vice grip, and when she relaxed he let his fingers slide out, cupping her gently when another spasm hit.

“Ye are so bonny,  _ mo nighean donn. _ ”

“So are you, my red-headed laddie.” She smiled at his expression and pulled him down for a kiss.

  
  
  


—

  
  


Claire stood at the rail of the  _ Arabella _ , the ship taking them away from Paris with its bittersweet memories and toward the unknown dangers of Scotland. She had argued with her father and Jamie about the wisdom of going to Scotland knowing that Jack Randall would be arresting him there. To her, staying in Paris until the danger passed made much more sense. 

But Jamie’s classes at the  _ Université _ were over, his family was expecting him back at Lallybroch soon. And not only him; the Frasers were anticipating her arrival as well. The mysterious Claire Beauchamp that Jamie has been speaking of for so long. She felt a knot of nerves that had plagued her since Jenny Fraser’s polite letter arrived formally inviting her to their home with definite undertones of guarded suspicion.

Yes, they were going back to Scotland, danger or no. James Fraser wasn’t one to hide from a fight.  _ Damn him. _

Right now, Jamie was below deck completely incapacitated with sea sickness. She had thought he was exaggerating when he warned her how ships affected him, but, if anything, he had minimized how badly his stomach reacted to the rocking waves.

And they still hadn’t talked about Annalise.

At first, it was self-preservation. The thought that he could die had driven everything from her mind but the need to be near him. They had slept in the same bed every night since her father brought them the news. But the days were so full of preparations and planning, that particular conversation felt completely overwhelming to Claire.

She thought they could talk about it on this trip, when they were both trapped in the close quarters of the ship and unable to run away from the issue. But not with Jamie as sick as he was. Claire didn’t think he could hold down broth for that long, let alone a conversation.

The water rushed effortlessly past the side of the ship, and she leaned over the rail to watch it ripple on an endless loop. It was a living thing, moving and churning like the emotions in the pit of her stomach. She had missed Jamie dreadfully this morning, their first of three days at sea and therefore not sharing his chamber at Jared’s house. 

And that was the problem, it seemed. Instead of talking about the issue they had ignored it, seeking to heal their connection with touch, which had worked to an extent but crumbled as soon as they stopped touching. She loved Jamie with all her heart and yet the wall that had formed between them that night stood stark and dreadfully solid despite all their attempts to regain their easy intimacy.

“Sweetie?” 

Claire shook her head, leaving the thoughts of Jamie and memories of that last morning in Paris behind, swirling away with the rushing water of the channel. Her dad stood a few feet down the deck, holding a steaming mug out to her.

“Thanks.” She sipped carefully, turning her face away to hide the flush in her cheeks. 

“I just checked on Jamie. He’s in rough shape.” Henry chuckled, leaning against the rail and taking the tea back from his daughter for a sip. “I guess he did warn us.”

Claire felt a smile tug at her lips. “I didn’t believe him, but I should have.”

“Can you tell me what’s up between you?” 

She examined the horizon. Leave it to Henry Beauchamp to cut to the chase. All her feelings of rightness and contentment in Jamie’s arms faded when she remembered the conversation they needed to have about Annalise.

“We haven’t talked about it yet ourselves. Your news kinda took precedence.”

“I’m sorry about that, kiddo.”

Claire shrugged. “We should have talked about it anyway, now it gets harder to bring up and easier to pretend it never happened.”

His silence invited her to share her overburdened heart and Claire found herself giving in. “He fell in love with someone else when I was gone. I waited too long to come back, and he had moved on to another girl. He even fought a duel or something for her the morning I arrived. And then, when I showed up, he pretended it didn’t exist, he kept me from meeting any of his friends the entire time I was there, and I just found out the night you came that he spent months keeping this secret from me.”

She broke off the flood of angry words she didn’t know had been locked inside. Hurt bloomed in her gut, churning bile and making her want to vomit, and before she knew it tears had flooded her cheeks. Her father’s strong arms locked around her just as a sob wracked her shoulders.

“God, dad. I feel like such an idiot.” 

Henry held her while she cried, kissing the top of her head and soothing her till the worst of the storm had passed. It felt wonderful to release some of the emotion that she had been stifling, even though she knew it would be back again and again until they dealt with the cause.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.”

“I know he loves me, Dad.” She sniffed. “And I love him too. But now I keep finding myself wondering if he lied about anything else, or if I should leave on principle, or if it was my fault for not coming as soon as he turned eighteen.”

“Hey,” he interrupted her, “Not your fault. Jamie’s choices are his own and he needs to take responsibility for them.” He hugged her tight and then looked down into her face. “And there’s also no set principle for how much you are allowed to forgive someone. If you decide to give him your forgiveness for this, that is your business.”

Claire rested her cheek against his shirt and sighed. “My heart wants to forgive him, but my head doesn’t want to forget.”

“Well, that’s where you’ve got to communicate. When we get to Scotland, before you go to Lallybroch, sit down and hash it out. Let him tell you the whole story, and you tell him exactly how you are feeling. Marriage is all about working out this kind of stuff.”

“He hasn’t actually asked me to marry him, Dad.”

“Sweetie, that boy would marry you tomorrow if he thought you’d agree to it. Please tell me you know that.” Henry drained the last of the tea and squeezed her shoulders. “I’ll go check on him again. Do you want to come down?”

She nodded and followed her dad below deck. They found Jamie sitting up in the berth holding his head in his hands. Henry grabbed the bucket he had been using for sea sickness and went to the window to empty it out.

Claire sat beside Jamie on the rumpled covers and wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the stink of sickness. He looked startled, but then leaned into her to rest his clammy forehead on her breast. His whole body seemed to relax into her and she held him close, feeling tears well in her eyes. Henry set the bucket down by the bed and smiled at her as he cocked his head toward the door and walked out to leave them alone.

She stroked back his sweaty hair, tracing his features with her eyes and fingers. This was the man she loved; the one she chose out of every person in the history of the world. If their love was going to last it needed to be built on honesty and forgiveness and trust. Claire dropped a kiss on his brow and leaned her cheek against his damp forehead.

“M’love ye S’ssnach.” He mumbled, weakly pulling her closer.

“Hush, Jamie. Don’t try to talk, just be with me.”


	13. May 26, 1740

[ ](https://ibb.co/3F0NjKp)

May 26, 1740

“I don’t care how or where you do it, son. But you two need to get straight with each other before you get to Lallybroch.” Claire’s father laid a hand on Jamie’s shoulder.

“I ken we do.” Jamie glanced at him with worried eyes. “How much has Claire told ye?”

Over the past weeks since Henry’s arrival he had come to respect Claire’s father immensely. It meant the world that Henry treated him as a man and approved of his attentions toward her. Jamie’s stomach filled with dread at the thought those kind eyes might look at him with disdain once he knew the truth.

“She told me you loved another girl.” Henry said quietly, and Jamie’s mouth went dry.

“No, I didna love her.” He shook his head in denial, but then his shoulders slumped. “I suppose it doesna matter if I did or no’. I lost hope that Claire would come back to me, and I found comfort in the company of another lass.”

He steeled himself, but the blow never came. Instead, Henry’s grip on his shoulder tightened and he spoke gently, “Ask for her forgiveness, and if she gives it to you, endeavor to never lie to her again. Love has no room for lies.”

Jamie nodded, and they fell silent as Claire appeared in the apothecary’s door with a bulging basket of goods on her arm. She spotted them and made her way across the busy street. They were in Inverness, just a few days' ride from home. And stocking up on supplies and gifts for when they arrived.

Henry met Jamie’s eye and gave him a brief nod. By the time Claire made it to his side her father had disappeared into the crowd.

“Where did Dad go?” 

Jamie took her hand and pulled it through his arm. “He is giving us a wee spell alone to talk.” She nodded and ducked her head as he led her down to the inn. He felt slightly nauseous, not unlike the way his stomach reacted to a rolling sea, but this time it was because of the conversation looming ahead of them.

This talk had become a living breathing thing between them, tainting the joy they took in each other’s company and rubbing raw the ease with which they used to connect. They had talked around it for so long that it seemed to be an impassable wall that neither of them had the skill or strength to climb. 

Jamie paid for a room and led Claire up the stairs, feeling like every eye in the establishment was on his back until the door closed behind them. He had needed to ask Henry several times if he really meant for them to be alone in the inn without a chaperone, and each time his response was the same.

“It’s either that or you take her for a ride on the moor and hash it out there. I think the inn would be more comfortable.”

Things must be very different in the 22nd century.

When the door closed behind them a heavy silence fell. They fell into the automatic routines of setting down what they carried, removing their dusty outer traveling clothes and washing up. But at last there was nothing left to do but talk. Still, Jamie hesitated.

“Well, I suppose we could give up and never speak to one another again.”

His heart clenched and he glanced up sharply, but she sat perched on the edge of the bed with an impish smile on her face, waiting for his reaction. He knew she was trying to lighten the mood between them, but Jamie couldn’t let her give him an escape again. Her smile faded as he braced himself and knelt before her.

“Let me tell ye what happened, Claire. And then ye can decide whether to forgive me or no’.”

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak but stilled as her fingers touched his lips.

“Jamie,” her soft hands framed his face. “I forgive you.”

He was shaking his head immediately, “Nay, Sassenach. Ye must let me speak, and if ye change yer mind…” 

“No.” Her voice was firm and sure. “I’ve already made my choice, Jamie. I will listen to you, and we will discuss it until we can put it to rest. But my forgiveness is mine to give and I’ve already given it.”

In the end they were curled together on the bed leaning up against the pillows as he laid out each event that had culminated in the duel on the  _ Bois de Boulogne. _ He held her with a broken heart as she wept over the pain of his betrayal and he whispered apologies over and over into her hair.

It was brutal as any physical fight that he had encountered in his young life, but the gift that she had given of her forgiveness before they began was a balm over every wound even as it formed. When they lay at last, battered and exhausted from the turmoil, he tenderly kissed her brow.

“Thank ye, my love.”

Her eyes were red from crying and her nose was swollen, so he wet a cloth in the basin and smoothed it over her brow and cheeks. He left the room to fetch their supper from the kitchen, a hearty stew and hot crusty bread, and he pulled her to sit in his lap by the fire while they ate. When they had finished, Jamie carefully helped her undress and tucked her into the bed, sliding in behind and cradling her close to his heart as they fell asleep.

Hours later, the fire had smouldered to embers when he opened his eyes to find Claire’s sleeping weight had come to life in his arms and was writhing slowly against him. Her arse pressed tight to his groin and he caught her hip to hold her there, feeling every vertebrae of her spine as she arched back into his body.

The darkness wrapped them in velvet silence. She didn’t speak, and he could not have formed a word if he tried. His hand slid down from her hip to cup her mound gently, finding her slippery with arousal and sensitive to the slightest brush of his fingers. Her hips and legs trembled and he drew a sharp breath as he felt her shudder under his touch.

Claire was gasping for air when she twisted around to face him, pulling his mouth down to her and flooding his senses with hands and breasts and lips and tongue. She grasped at his shoulders, urgently guiding him up and over her until quite suddenly he found himself kneeling between her thighs with his throbbing cock in his hand.

“Please,” she whimpered, and Jamie lost every reason he had been determined to wait. All that mattered was the two of them, here and now in their shadowed bed loving each other in every sense of the word. He pushed forward, sliding up through her slick folds, then pulled his hips back to notch himself in her entrance.

She jerked sideways underneath him, gasping in alarm, and Jamie’s heart stopped in his chest.

“Claire?” His hands ran up and down her body, sliding over her cheeks to check for tears in the darkness.

“No, no. I’m fine. It’s just…” she let out a nervous laugh. “That was my ass, Jamie.” 

His jaw dropped in horror. 

“ _ Christ,  _ Claire. I almost buggered you?” He whispered, face burning with shame as he sank back away from her.

“No!” Claire made a lucky grab and caught his sark, pulling him close again. He braced himself above her, burying his nose in her curls and trying to calm the chaotic emotions rolling in his stomach. He was incredibly aroused, fully erect, balls aching. But he couldn’t subject her to his desire after…  _ that _ .

“Hmmm… stop thinking.” Claire hummed in his ear and her hand slid down and found his cock jutting up underneath the linen sark. 

“Claire, ye dinna have to...” he gasped out as her palm cupped him underneath. 

“I want you, Jamie.” Her breath warmed his cheek as she explored him, absorbed in what she was doing and seemingly unconcerned with his state of discomfort. He cried out sharply when her fingers tightened around him. 

“Now, pay attention.” She grasped his other hand and pulled it down between her thighs.

“Ass.” She settled the pad of his middle finger on the soft puckered place, and then she drew his thumb up over her delicate skin until he felt the slick entrance to her body. 

“Vagina.” She whispered, and he repeated the word under his breath.

Then she tugged him closer and fit his rigid erection where it belonged. He slid into her, feeling her body opening and sheathing him tightly. The sensations jolted up his spine and his hips bucked forward, eliciting a squeak of surprise from Claire’s lips.

He gripped her face, gasping against her lips. “Am I hurting ye?” 

“No, I’m fine. I’m good.” She arched her hips up toward him and he sunk in to the hilt, making them both moan and share a shaky breathless laugh.

Jamie’s mind was blank of all but Claire; her body so small underneath him, her hands had dropped to his arse, pulling him tight inside. He held himself up on shaking arms to keep from crushing her to the bed.

He had watched any number of animals mate growing up on a farm and surrounded by wildlife. The basics seemed easy enough to grasp. Moving in and out of her experimentally yielded incredible results, both in their bodies and in the sounds coming from Claire’s throat. He grinned down at her, trying to make out the expressions rippling across her face in the dim moonlight.

Jamie felt his release coming and tried to slow down to make it last, but pleasure crashed over him in a wave that possessed his body until he was riding her frantically and erratically. She didn’t seem to mind. The sounds she made drove him mad with desire. When he spilled himself deep inside, she rocked her hips again and again onto his still hard cock and within seconds she was as breathless and boneless as he.

He had collapsed beside her on the mattress, feeling more content than he ever remembered being in his entire life, when all of a sudden he froze in horror.

_ Shite. _

Henry was going to kill him.

  
  
  


—

  
  
  


“He’s not going to kill you.” Claire stroked the curls back from his forehead as the grey dawn light filtered in the window. Jamie lay with his head cushioned on her breast and his hands full of her bare skin. 

“If some lad lay with Jenny unwed, my father would kill him.” He sighed, then noticed the interesting sweep of gooseflesh his breath on her skin had raised. Distracted from his morbid thoughts, Jamie blew gently on her breast and watched her nipple react with fascination.

She pushed his head away and rolled over, covering her chest with her hands. “Stop that!” Giggles shook her shoulders and he blew a stream of cold air across her ear just to see her shiver and squeal in protest.

“Ye ken, this wouldna be an issue were we wed.” Jamie’s lips twitched as he studied her, gauging her reaction to his words. He was rewarded with her eyes narrowed at him suddenly, sharp and dangerous. Those eyes could cut him to the core every day for the rest of his life if he had his way.

“You have never asked me to marry you.” She replied at length.

“I have so!” He rolled up to his elbow, eager to defend himself. “I asked ye to stay with me, we have talked of our future for months. I tell ye I love ye every day, I call ye my Lady Lallybroch…” 

“You’ve never said, ‘Will you marry me, Claire Beauchamp?’” 

Jamie furrowed his brow. She was right. He had settled in his mind that they would be engaged and wed at Lallybroch, and never actually asked her outright if that’s what she wanted. She tried to keep her face a smooth mask, but he could see in her eyes how important this was to her.

“Will ye marry me, Claire Beauchamp?” he asked softly.

It was like watching the sunlight spill across her face, the way it lit up. She pulled him close enough to kiss, golden eyes shining up at him, and whispered against his lips.

“Yes.”

They did not come down for breakfast. By the time Jamie finally did leave the room, his nerves were back full force. He asked a maid to deliver some food for Claire and went in search of his betrothed’s father. 

The sight of Henry Beauchamp in the tavern nursing a cup of ale made him thank God there was no food in his stomach to come up. He swallowed his fear and sat down across from the older man, nodding as he met his eye.

“Good morning, son.” There was a pleasant smile on his face, but Jamie sensed the chord of tension between them. “I trust you and Claire worked things out?”

“Aye. We did, sir.” He swallowed roughly, then opened his mouth to confess.

“Jamie,” Henry interrupted. “You and I have a similar understanding... of what we believe is right between a man and a woman.” He was looking down at his mug, studying the pewter rim. “I was born in 1900 and I met my wife in 2087. And what I’ve learned throughout our marriage is that many things have changed. Or will change, in the next few centuries. Marriage and love are viewed very differently in the future. And Claire is a woman of her time.”

He glanced up with a grimace and drained his cup. “I don’t want to know how you worked it out. Just... please tell me you are going to be my son-in-law.”

Jamie nodded, speechless and grateful for the man in front of him who knew what it was like to love a lass from a different world than his own.

“Good.” Henry rose to his feet and clapped him on the back.

“I’ve already spoken to a priest, and they insist on waiting for the bans to be read. So we can do that, or you can be handfast today.” He hesitated. “Actually, she won’t thank you for deciding without her.”

“Deciding what?” Claire appeared at Jamie’s side and seated herself, leaning into his shoulder and wrapping her hands around his arm. 

He stopped himself from kissing her, though the smug smile on her lips said she could tell he wanted to.

“Did ye not get the breakfast I had sent up?”

“I thought you might need me.”

_ Always. _

A throat clearing made them aware of Henry’s presence at the table, and Jamie sat straight with a pang of worry. 

“Good morning, Daddy.” Claire seemed completely unaffected by the air of discomfort between the two men. She reached for bread and butter, making two slices for Jamie before taking a bite of her own.

“We were discussing your wedding.” There was a smile in his voice, and Jamie’s heart eased. Whatever Henry’s thoughts and beliefs, he wouldn’t hold any anger toward his daughter for her actions. Jamie wondered if his Da would react the same for Jenny, and found he couldn't know for sure.

Claire squeezed Jamie’s hand under the table. “I had hoped to wait until Mama could be there. But I know that might not be possible.”

Neither Beauchamp seemed affected in the least to be speaking of a wedding with relatives attending from hundreds of years in the future.

“Can yer mother... travel?” Jamie spoke around a mouthful of buttered bread.

“Not by herself, but we’ve found that it is possible to bring people with us through the stones.” Henry beckoned for more ale and soon they each had a mug in front of them and steaming bowls of porridge. 

“It isn’t a pleasant experience for a passenger.” Henry continued, “Though we can ease their discomfort by traveling on feast days or using gemstones. But it is possible to bring someone through.”

Jamie shuddered at the thought of being dragged through time by way of a giant slab of stone. 

“So, your wedding?” Henry looked between them expectantly. “Handfasting is common here in this time period. Right, Jamie?”

“Aye,” Jamie shifted in his seat, still uncomfortable with the fact that Henry knew what they had been doing last night and was eager to see them wed. “Handfasting is a sort of temporary marriage, so it would be considered legal for a year and a day.”

“Which would give us time to plan a bigger wedding that Mama could attend.” Claire smiled happily, leaning against his shoulder.

Henry nodded and cleared his throat roughly. “It would also legitimize any grandchildren who might come along in the meantime. Though,” he looked hard at his daughter, “I’d prefer if we tried to wait for grandchildren ‘till this history mess is dealt with.”

Jamie flushed to the tips of his ears, but Claire was nodding, so he assumed she must have some medicine or practice to prevent a bairn. He’d have to ask her about that later.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” she rose to her feet and gracefully stepped out from the table. “I have to go get ready for my wedding.”

With a twinkling smile, she was gone.


	14. May 30, 1740

[ ](https://ibb.co/WPZS3WD)

May 30, 1740

“D’ye see there, Sassenach? We’re home.”

The landscape was a brilliant lush green, rolling hills dipping and cradling an impressive stone house with welcoming smoke rising from the chimney. Surrounding the house were outbuildings, a rather impressive tower, and fields as far as you could see.

Claire glanced over at her dad and smiled. He had agreed to come with them to Lallybroch, to meet Jamie’s family and celebrate the news of their handfasting. 

Possibly to help break the news of their handfasting.

Jamie was very optimistic, but Claire felt nervous about meeting his family with the deed already done. He was so close to his father and Jenny. He wrote to them every few days and received letters from them often during his time in Paris. They knew all about Claire, but to meet them for the first time, and as his wife, was rather intimidating.

She leaned back into his chest and let his natural heat surround her. Whatever they were about to face, whether it be open arms or wounded feelings, she knew in her soul that they belonged together. His family would just have to see it too.

A pack of dogs were the first to notice their approach, and Jamie jumped down and intercepted them on the road. There were at least 5 of them, of various breeds, but all equally enthusiastic to greet their prodigal master returned home. Both Claire and Henry started laughing when they knocked him down and he was buried under a mass of licking tongues and wagging tails.

Jamie fought his way to the surface, gasping for air. 

“Get back, ye wee mongrels! Let me breathe!” He staggered to his feet, picking up a squirming puppy and carrying him over to Claire.

“Well ye are a canty lad, look at ye! D’ye want to meet yer mistress?” He lifted the pup into her arms and she tried to secure him tightly, lifting her chin away from his loving assault. 

“Who is this?” she laughed as the horse shifted, unsure of his new passenger. Jamie grabbed his bridle to keep him still and patted the black and tan leggy beast in her arms. 

“His name is Bran. Jenny wrote that we had more pups from Nairn’s welp, remember? Da decided to keep this one. I used to ride on Nairn’s back when I was a wean, so he’ll likely be big as a pony when he’s grown.”

He took the pup from her before he could scramble up her body and set him gently on the road. A shout from ahead made them look up and see a slim young woman with her skirts gathered up in her hands hurrying toward them.

Jamie took off running toward her with the dogs leaping and barking around him; while they came with the horses a bit behind, watching as he caught Jenny in his arms and spun her around. He was a full head and shoulders taller than her, his bright copper hair a stark contrast next to the thick black locks tumbling down her back. As they got closer Claire could see her eyes were the same slanted shape as Jamie’s and she grinned up at her “little” brother.

They dismounted and stood holding the horses, watching the tender exchange. Claire’s heart felt so full for him at that moment. She had seen Jamie at three different points in his life; as a child broken in grief, as a teenager far from home, and then in Paris as a young man being educated before taking his place as laird. 

But here was a Jamie that she had never seen before. The smile seemed permanently etched on his face, and all of the tension in his body had melted away. 

He turned his attention to her and reached out his hand to pull her closer. 

“Jen, I want you to meet Claire Fraser. My wife.”

Jenny’s mouth fell open and a look of surprise crossed her face, but then her smile bloomed again and she pulled Claire into a tight hug and her voice broke as she whispered in her ear.

“Thank ye, Claire. For coming back to him.”

When she pulled back they both had tears in their eyes, and they laughed as the drops spilled over their cheeks. Claire had never felt such an instant connection with anyone but Jamie. Maybe it was the mutual love they shared for him, but all at once, any rift she had feared because of their hasty marriage was gone.

“Da will be home shortly, but let’s get ye settled and cleaned up.” Jenny had grasped Claire’s hands in her own and squeezed them tightly. “I’ll show ye upstairs.”

A few minutes later Claire was standing in Jamie’s childhood room, examining his belongings. He had carefully displayed knick-knacks on the mantle that no one else would see as art, but she could recognize the simple beauty her husband had valued in each item.

A stone, shaped by nature into a perfect teardrop.

The black and white speckled feather of a bird.

A circle of heather woven together and dried.

Her eyes caught and held on something that didn’t seem to belong amongst the collection of treasures. It was a barrette made of hard black plastic and molded into a Celtic knot. Her mother had given it to her for her 12th birthday and she thought it was lost years ago.

Jamie walked into the room behind her, closing the door behind him and striding across the floor to wrap his arms around her waist.

“How far do ye think we can get and still have time to make it down for dinner?” 

He bit down on her neck, making her giggle and squirm against him. She could feel the carnal evidence of a few days of hard riding in the company of her father. Jamie was far too shy to fool around in front of him, even under the cover of darkness as they lay in their bedroll. 

“Jamie… Jamie!” She squealed, pushing her hips back into his groin to break his hold on her neck. He moaned with appreciation, gripping her tighter. 

“Stop it! Look at this.” Claire held up her barrette for him to see. 

“Oh, aye. Ye must have dropped that when we were at the fairy hill as bairns. I found it on my way back down to the pony.” He took it from her, rubbing his thumbs over the pattern. “I could never figure out what it was made of, but I kept it to remember ye by.”

“You remembered me, all that time?” She turned in his arms, settling her palms on his cheeks and pulling him down to meet her lips softly.

“I loved ye all that time, Sassenach.” His mouth found hers again and again, groaning as he pulled her flush against his chest. She let him walk her backward blindly toward the bed, laughing as they tripped and sprawled out on the mattress. 

  
  


\---

  
  
  


Claire felt giddy and breathless as she hurried down to dinner. Jamie was a few steps behind her doing his level best to grip her ass through the layers of skirt, and she skipped ahead quickly to avoid his wandering hands.

There were voices coming from the dining hall, and when they reached the door she felt a smile pull at her cheeks. Her dad sat at the long table with a big dark man, his hair was black as Jenny’s. His eyes the same startling blue that she had fallen in love with.

“Jamie!” Brian Fraser exclaimed, rising to his feet and coming to embrace his son. They pounded each other’s backs, laughing and grinning like two friends rather than father and son.

“I hear ye went and got yerself a wife.” Those sharp blue eyes pinned on her, and Claire felt a moment of apprehension. But he swept her into his arms and held her tightly, then pulled back to examine her face. Jamie hovered beside them full of nervous energy.

“Aye, lad. Ye were right to wait for this one.” He smiled down at Claire but addressed his son.

“I ken. I told ye.” Jamie was grinning too. She felt a pang of annoyance at being talked about while she was standing right there, and Brian saw it cross her face. He chuckled and led her to the table, pulling out a chair. “Claire Fraser. That rolls off the tongue nicely, lass. Now. Tell me all about yerself and dinna leave anything out.”

They spent the next few hours talking and eating, and laughing and drinking until the candles burned low. Jamie’s dynamic with his family was fascinating, and Claire found herself content to just watch the way they spoke to each other, and the easy affection that passed between them. They adored Jamie. It was so obvious that his coming home was monumental to their world, and as his wife, she was welcomed into their circle without question.

Henry and Brian shared a similar dry wit, and as the evening wore on they relaxed into their whisky and spun tales of the adventures they went on in their youth. Brian’s booming laughter shook the house when Henry described his antics with Lamb, leaving out some of the details of 20th-century life and time travel.

Jenny got up to clear away the meal and Claire rose to join her, ignoring her protests. They made quick work of it, cleaning in companionable silence, and smiling at each other when the men’s laughter rumbled through the door.

“Ye dinna ken how much it means to us to have Jamie home.” Jenny stopped and looked up in the middle of washing the dishes, her smile was a little shaky. “He talked of ye for so long, and we were so afraid that ye’d never come. But to ken ye are his wife and he’s home to stay. Och, my heart could burst with happiness.”

Claire stepped close and hugged her, laughing at their dripping hands and damp dresses. 

“I am so glad to be here with him. And with you. It feels like home already.” 

It did feel like home. When Jenny and Claire joined the men again Jamie held his hand out to his wife and pulled her to the fireplace in front of the rest of the family.

“I have something to give ye, _mo bhean.”_

He stepped behind her and extended his hand over her shoulder, a string of pearls sliding from his hand to drape in front of her. He carefully looped them around her neck and fastened them behind.

“These belonged to my mother, and now they belong to my wife. They are very precious to me, as are ye, Claire.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she leaned into his kiss as the family looked on. They were all fighting back tears, but Brian squeezed Jenny tight to his side and nodded to his daughter-in-law. 

“They look bonny on ye, lass. Ellen would be proud to see ye wear them.”

Another round of drinks was poured, and they toasted the future laird and lady Lallybroch. Claire looked at her father to see his eyes gleaming as well and they shared a smile. 

When it was time to go up to bed Claire hung back to give him a long hug and he whispered in her ear, “Your mother will be so happy to know you found where you belong.” He kissed her cheek before releasing her to Jamie.

“Are ye well, _mo ghraidh?”_ He asked with a soft kiss and a searching look. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and smiled at her husband. 

“My father traveled over 160 years to find the love of his life and his place in the history of the world. For us it’s different. We don’t need to find just _where_ we belong, but also _when.”_

“Ahh,” Jamie pulled her up the steps and led her into their room, closing the door behind. “I dinna much mind the _where_ and the _when_ , Sassenach. As long as the _who_ is ye and I.”


	15. June 19, 1740

[ ](https://ibb.co/L8pqSzM)

_June 19, 1740_

Henry Beauchamp strode quickly through the forest to where he had left his horse tethered in the thick bracken. His heart thumped in his chest; residual adrenaline from the nearly botched escape from Ft. William just an hour before.

He had left the kids at Lallybroch just a few days before, pulling Jamie and Claire aside to let them know his plans. The summer solstice was coming and he needed to get back to Colmeallie in 2111 to compare intel with Lamb.

And to see Julia. The essence of her pulling him toward her through the centuries.

_ Not long now, love. _

But before the portal opened, he wanted to take a stab at some direct source information on what Jack Randall was planning. He had spent the last few weeks as a casual observer; riding the area, taking his rest in frequented taverns, and listening to the gossip.

Randall was making a reputation for himself among the locals as a heartless bastard. His successor, Captain Buncombe, had been begrudgingly accepted by the Highlanders. But Randall imposed a levy on the district, forcing the farmers to provide food and supplies for the garrison. Any resistance was met with force, violence, and an arrest for “obstruction” which seemed to cover everything from a verbal argument to physical assault.

Henry had stolen into Ft. William when the sun set at the changing of the guard, using inhalant anesthesia to disarm the soldiers quietly and a small pill under the tongue to keep them incoherent for a few hours. The trick to using drugs was not to leave an obvious path of destruction in your wake. A fast-acting method to knock them unconscious followed by a long period of apparent drunkenness seemed to work well. There was no one to find knocked out or tied up, and thus no one noticed his presence in the fort.

Breaking into Randall’s office was a matter of waiting for the man to retire for the evening, which took some time. He crouched in the rafters until the light under the door came close and Randall stepped out into the hall.

It had been a decade since he had seen Jonathan Randall’s face in person. The animosity between them had begun as teenagers and continued as both of them took on influential roles in their respective family organizations. Randall was a dangerous man--twisted and sadistic-- without a sense of integrity. Henry had given up all hope of his redemption when he discovered Randall’s sexual proclivity for violent rape, and his personal goal of conquering as many influential young men in history, as possible.

No, this man could not be allowed to exist in the same time period as Claire and her new family. 

The flickering light illuminated the sharp lines of Jack’s face as he locked the door behind him and strode down the hall toward his chambers. Henry waited another few minutes to ensure that he was alone and then dropped from the rafters and swiftly picked the lock.

He moved quickly; snapping photos of the content of drawers, maps, letters, and pages from the official log. His eyes scanned each page for  _ Lallybroch _ or  _ Fraser _ but did not find any evidence of Randall’s plans for Jamie.

When he had taken all the time he dared, Henry carefully replaced everything in the desk and stepped softly to the door. All was silent in the hall beyond, and he quickly left the room and made to exit the way he had come, hurrying down the passage to the steep winding staircase. 

A door squeaked ahead of him and Henry dropped to a crouch. He held the anesthesia device in his palm, but looked around quickly, trying to find a place to hide. Above his head, a window was cut into the stone and stretched to his full length he could just grip the sill. He pulled himself up quickly, bracing his foot on the opposite wall of the stairwell for support. 

It was a feat for a man of his age, but Henry managed to perch more or less in the window. He would be exposed if anyone were to look up, but in the darkness, he was fairly hidden. Below, the shuffling of footsteps began to climb and the glow of a lantern lit the stairwell.

He held his breath as the lone soldier climbed the steps, eyes on his feet, and the passage was again cloaked in shadows. He dropped quickly, narrowly avoiding a tumble, and was able to slip past the guard he had drugged earlier, still woozy from his pill.

In the forest, Henry swung into the saddle and pushed on toward Craigh na Dun. If he hurried, he could be there at dawn.

Julia was waiting.

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  
  


The roar of pushing through the fabric of time had barely faded from Henry’s ears when she jumped into his arms, laughing. He stumbled from the impact, but a moment later his lips were on hers, soft and insistent as she gripped his collar to keep him close.

“Welcome home, my love,” she whispered when they broke for air.

Henry couldn’t speak, he just pressed his mouth to hers, again and again, running his rough fingers over her jaw and around the back of her neck to wrap her tighter to him.

It was the clearing of a throat that finally pulled them apart, and Henry tucked his wife under his arm as he met his older brother’s grin.

“Do I get a kiss?” Lamb stood leaning against one of the dormant stones with his hands in his pockets.

“If you really need one, I guess, brother,” Henry brushed his lips across Julia’s hair and grinned when she laughed at his joke.

“Where’s Claire?” Julia asked, her voice full of disappointment. “Why didn’t she come with you?”

“She wanted to, but she was a little busy with her new husband.”

“Husband!?” 

“I’ll tell you everything on the way, but let’s get out of here before we get company,” Henry pulled his wife by the hand out of the stone circle. The three moved swiftly down the hill to the waiting car. It would take 2 hours to get back to the farm, but he would sleep in his own bed with his wife tonight.

Lamb climbed in the driver’s seat of his restored 2020 Porsche Taycan 4S, and Julia tugged Henry into the back with her, ignoring the bucket seats and climbing directly onto his lap. It was a tight fit, but he stretched his legs diagonally across the cab and leaned his back against the door. 

“I’m not a taxi driver,” Lamb grumbled from the front seat.

“Shut up!” Julia waved her hand dismissively and narrowed her eyes at Henry.

“Now, tell me about this husband of Claire’s.”

He filled them in on the last minute handfasting ceremony they had pulled together in a private dining room of the inn, recruiting the innkeeper and his wife as witnesses. It had been a simple but poignant moment as Jamie led his bride through the Gaelic blood vow and Henry wrapped their wrists together.

Claire’s voice had shook, stumbling over the foreign language, but her eyes shone with a sense of peace and confidence that set Henry’s heart completely at ease for his daughter. As he described Jamie to his brother and wife, he found himself warming with a deep affection for his new son in law. 

“They want to have a bigger ceremony in the Spring after this business with Randall is settled, but they really couldn’t wait. It was… well, they really couldn’t wait,” he finished lamely.

“Oh, I can imagine,” Julia smirked at her husband’s discomfort, “We Beauchamp women tend to get our way in these matters. Do you remember our first…”

“I don’t want to hear this!” Lamb exclaimed, shaking his head with a grimace. “You two with the oversharing.”

Julia’s musical laugh filled the car and both brothers smiled at the sound. 

“Q, when you find your soulmate I welcome all of the oversharing.” She grinned affectionately at her brother-in-law. “I’m praying for the day your person walks in and knocks you off your feet.”

“They’d better hurry or I’ll be dead,” he quipped, pulling the car onto the gated entrance at Colmeallie Farm.

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


A few days later, Henry was back at Lallybroch in 1740. It had been a whirlwind visit to the future, but the intel he and Lamb had been able to exchange was invaluable, and the time to reconnect with Julia had been much needed.

He brought back letters of congratulations for Jamie and Claire, as well as a few wedding gifts that had been carefully selected to fit into the 18th century life the new couple would lead. Claire had been especially pleased to see a full medical kit in a beautifully tooled leather satchel. Julia spent hours choosing, and carefully hand-labeling, medicines that might be useful in antique glass jars that were carefully separated in padded compartments.

For Jamie, Henry and Lamb decided on one of their own standard tool sets designed to appear as everyday objects in any time period. Jamie was thrilled to have his very own flashlight and compass, and though the multitool confused him at first, he soon grew interested in the function of each piece and the easy way they folded into what appeared to be an oblong stone.

The sky was streaked with pink, and a golden hue had settled over the fields surrounding Lallybroch. Henry leaned against the stone wall and blew the sweet tobacco smoke out of his mouth. He and Brian Fraser had stepped outside after dinner, leaving the young people to their own devices. They each had a dram of whisky and one of Brian’s prized set of hand-carved tobacco pipes from France. Henry watched and copied carefully as Brian packed the tobacco and lit his pipe. It was a novel sensation, and not a terrible taste, but Henry was glad that they had stepped away to where his daughter was unlikely to catch him.

“Poor lad,” Brian nodded his chin toward the house where Jamie’s friend Ian Murray was attempting to take his leave. “My Janet has her eye set on him, and he doesna ken what to do about it.”

Sure enough, Jenny had looped her arm through the young man’s and was chatting away, ignoring his attempts to detach and start toward his home. Henry and Brian exchanged a look and laughed softly at the boy’s growing discomfort.

“He is good for her, and they may make a fine match after a time,” he tapped his pipe to knock down the tobacco. “But Ian wants to see more of the world before he settles down, and it would do him good to go. If he does return, he’ll be a better man for it.”

The dark-haired laird watched his daughter as he took a sip of whisky. 

“I wish I could have given Janet more of that, more opportunity to see what there is beyond Lallybroch and Broch Mordha. She’s stepped into her Mam’s shoes since she was a wee lass when my Ellen died, and I never could do without her, but… there are times I regret that.”

Henry nodded thoughtfully in response, thinking of how he would ever let Claire go in a similar circumstance. She had been raised in a society where her gender wasn’t a hindrance to any pursuit or interest she may have, and their family’s unique occupation had naturally led to her being well-traveled. And yet, despite her fierce independence and strong capability, Henry ached to think of leaving her here. He couldn’t imagine  _ home _ without Claire in it, but Julia kept reminding him that they were trusting her choice to build a life with Jamie.

“There’s something about a daughter, isn’t there?” Henry mused, smiling ruefully into his glass of whisky and feeling it burn down his throat. “I haven’t experienced a son, but… it seems little girls win our hearts and make it nearly impossible to let them go.”

“Aye,” Brian raised his glass in agreement.

There was a movement at the back door, and in the twilight they watched Jamie tug Claire out toward the back pasture. From their vantage point, they could see a flash of white teeth as he grinned at something she said, and the sudden jump as Claire lifted her skirts and ran with all her might up toward the crest of the hill. Jamie jogged easily behind her and then tackled her into the grass, their laughter carrying over the fields.

“They’re a good pair,” Henry remarked, averting his eyes from the private moment.

“I was afraid for him when he first came back from Leoch and he could speak of nothing else but Claire Beauchamp and that he meant to make her his wife,” Jamie’s father chuckled, “The lad would hear no word to the contrary. Janet and I were both so relieved when we got word that she had found him in Paris.”

There was a question in Brian’s voice that he deliberately did not ask, and Henry considered his words carefully before answering it.

“It was difficult for Claire, as well,” he said at last. “When she came back from Leoch, she threw herself into her studies to take her mind off of Jamie, and as the time passed she feared that he might have forgotten her.”

“We Frasers dinna forget a love that easily,” Brian turned toward the house, and Henry glanced back at the young couple, then quickly away. They had made a nest in the tall grass and might have said they were stargazing, but neither of them was looking up. 

There was a man striding up the hill, dressed in the Fraser tartan, full bearded and looking thunderous. Brian waved to him. 

“My kinsman, Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser. He is just coming back from Leoch himself.”

The man started speaking before he had quite reached them, his brows dark and bunched over his eyes. 

“I heard the lad went and got himself a wife?” He demanded of Brian, “Some chatty French miss, I assume?”

Fraser’s eyes remained calm and filled with humor as he gestured toward Henry. 

“Murtagh, meet Henry Beauchamp. Jamie’s new father-in-law.”

“Beauchamp?” Murtagh’s brows almost touched his hairline. Henry chuckled as he shook the man’s hand. 

“My daughter, Claire…”

“Claire?” 

There was a smile across his face now, and the transformation made both Brian and Henry break down laughing. They motioned toward the field and Murtagh looked over and then turned quickly, clearing his throat with a rough uncomfortable cough.

“Aye, well. I’m pleased for him. I kent how much he cared for the lass.”

Jamie’s father beamed. “And she came back to him at last. Now they are home to stay.”

Henry smiled as he thought of Julia, and how the stones pulled him to her through the centuries. Claire had said she met Jamie in much the same way; she had been trying to get to 1715, but the stones took her to 1729 where Jamie was nearby. Whatever power it was, it seemed to know when two hearts belonged together.

“Jamie and Claire... they are soulmates,” Henry said softly. “No matter what, they would have found each other again.”

“Aye, I had that with my Ellen. I’m glad that Jamie has it too.” Brian shook his head. “Listen to us, worrying about our bairns settling down like a couple of old crones.”

“That’s the whisky talking,” Murtagh pulled out his own flask and took a generous swig.

Brian chuckled and held out his glass.

“Must be time for a refill, then. Aye?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read more about Henry & Julia's story in Time Doesn't Matter (The ATTILY Prequel)


	16. August 14, 1740

[ ](https://ibb.co/K6FSJhR)

_August 14, 1740_

“Shit, we missed the best part.”

Claire and Jenny peered through the thick bushes above the loch at the two young men below who had just finished a swim. They had been washing up after a day working hard in the fields. They had kilts wrapped around their waists, but they were bare from the waist up.

“What’s the best part?” Jenny whispered, trying to get a better view without giving away their location.

“The part where they were naked?” Claire glanced over at her sister in law and had to choke back a laugh when her jaw dropped. 

The girls had been walking back from the village when they heard voices and crept over to see who was going for a swim, and now they couldn’t seem to look away. Jamie and Ian were both impressive to look at. Hard work moulded their bodies firmly with muscles that were sharply defined in the late afternoon sun, and their skin was tanned from being outside all day.

“He is a finely formed man,” Jenny’s voice was wistful.

“Stop talking about my husband’s ass,” Claire joked, shoving her shoulder. 

“I wasna looking at my brother, ye wee dolt. I meant Ian!”

“Oh, you wanted to see Ian’s ass, then?” 

Jenny flushed pink to the tips of her ears, much like her brother, Claire observed. She sputtered, trying to recover, but soon both girls had collapsed into the grass giggling. They spent the next few minutes shushing each other which only sent them into another round of hysterics until they finally lay trying to catch their breath.

“I ken he likes me,” Jenny said softly. She had plucked a long piece of meadow grass and was pulling it apart with her nails. “He looks at me like he wants to kiss me, ye ken? But he willna do it.”

“Why not?” Claire’s hands were behind her head and she watched the clouds through the treetops.

Jenny’s dark brow furrowed, “He doesna want to be a farmer. He wants to leave and make something of himself. It’s just…” she fell silent, ripping the grass to shreds and tossing it aside.

“It’s just that I would go with him,” she blurted out, almost as if she was afraid to say it. “I’ve never left Lallybroch lands, and I want to make something of myself too. And if Ian would take me with him…”

Claire propped herself up on one elbow, “You’d go. You should go.”

“But Da needs me…” 

“He loves you, Jenny. There’s a difference. He would never want you to feel like staying at Lallybroch is more important than building a life with the man you love.”

Jenny’s bright eyes were full of tears and she sniffed, turning her head to hide them. But Claire had practice with Frasers, and she pulled the other girl over to rest on her shoulder. 

“You are only twenty-one years old. It’s not too late to go for what you want.”

They lay in the grass for several long minutes, holding each other’s hands tightly. Finally, Jenny gave a shaky laugh.

“I’ve never had a sister before,”

Claire smiled, “Neither have I. But we have each other now.”

Just then there was a whoop from behind them and Jamie flung himself over the bank and landed on his knees at Claire’s side. Ian was just behind him but held back, watching Jenny sit up hastily and swipe tears from her cheeks.

Jamie hadn’t noticed. He was tickling his wife, laughing as she shrieked at him to stop. 

Ian held his hand out to Jenny and she went to him, letting him tuck her hand in his arm. He turned to Jamie, who had just pulled Claire close for a kiss. 

“I’m going to take yer sister down to the house, alright _mo charaid?”_

“Aye, we’ll be down presently,” Jamie called to their retreating backs once his mouth was free. 

Claire hummed, arching up into him as he pinned her in the grass. He trailed open-mouthed kisses down her neck, pulling clumsily at the laces of her bodice and freeing her breasts for his attention.

“Jamie! They aren’t gone yet,” she halfheartedly squirmed underneath him but he had slid between her legs and her struggles only wedged them tighter together. Her words died in a gasp as his mouth closed hot and insistent over her nipple.

“They wouldn’t come back now, Sassenach. They ken well what we’re doing,” his voice was slightly muffled, and his hand pulled at her skirts, rucking them up around her thighs and yanking at the fabric of his kilt. Her laughter cut off when he took her mouth with his own, stealing her breath.

He filled her, slowly, both of them gasping at the pressure. Jamie groaned and bit down on the tendon where her shoulder and neck met.

“If I could be inside you every day for the rest of my life, Sassenach; I would.”

She didn’t have the breath to reply, but her foggy brain agreed. With his conscience clear, Jamie had taken enthusiastically to married life. A thought sprang into her mind: her IUD was probably working overtime to combat all the sperm, and Claire laughed out loud, surprising her husband. 

“Are you laughing at me?” He thrust up into her firmly, almost violently. She was stretched underneath him, rosy breasts covered in drops of water from his hair and bouncing in time to the pace he set. 

Claire just grinned, intentionally keeping her thoughts from him as a tease. A glint lit his eyes and he increased her punishment, bracing himself above her and quickening the pumping rhythm that sent jolt after jolt of hot pleasure through her core.

“Ye’ll get what ye deserve, my Sassenach,” he growled in her ear and his breath sent shivers through her overstimulated nerves. 

They had fallen into the routine of Lallybroch, waking at dawn, working hard all day, and playing in the evening. And this was Jamie’s favorite sort of play. The angle of the bank aligned their bodies for maximum friction and Claire lost herself in the waves of release that built and broke over her senses.

Jamie collapsed on top of her, breathing like a rhino in her ear. 

“I love you,” she whispered faintly, through the fog of satisfaction. She felt him grunt, rolling to the side and taking her with him until she lay with her head pillowed on his shoulder. A sticky wetness coated her thighs, familiar and erotic.

After a few minutes, she pushed at him until he let her up, and then she stripped her clothes right there in front of his eyes. Jamie’s gaze went from intrigued to aroused in seconds, and when she turned and raced toward the water he followed a few paces behind.

“God, ye have a fine plump arse,”

Claire squealed when he grabbed it and she dove into the loch. He was on her again in the next moment, pulling her to him and parting her legs around his body. 

Two big hands closed over each ass cheek and Jamie moaned deep in his throat. Claire rubbed herself against his chest, her nipples pebbled hard and her core aching for more, more… it didn’t matter that he had just taken her.

The water was cool and heavy, sliding over their heated limbs as Jamie found his footing and opened her up with his tongue and his cock.

“More, Jamie,” she panted against his mouth. 

“Aye,” he wrapped a hand around the nape of her neck and gave her more. His hips moved in the water, pulling her down onto him hard and so deep that she moaned. She clung to his shoulders and cried out with each thrust until her nerves erupted and she collapsed; weak and liquid against him. 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


A long time later they came to the house, holding hands and subdued. Jamie stopped abruptly and Claire heard what he had a moment later. They peeked around the corner curiously to see that Ian had backed Jenny against the garden wall and was kissing her for all he was worth; his hands cupping her tear-stained cheeks. Neither of them noticed the couple, and Claire pushed Jamie back to go the long way around the house and in the front.

“That’s my sister!” Jamie whispered vehemently, peering back over his shoulder.

“Your sister is plenty old enough to be kissed, so can it.” she smacked his shoulder to pull his attention back to her.

“It’s not kissing I’m worried about, Sassenach. I ken how convenient that wall is for other things. Why just last week I had ye up against…”

The clearing of a throat stopped him mid-sentence. Murtagh was sitting on the front stoop, whittling. His brows were bunched together as he focused on his work.

“Between the four of ye, there isna a safe place to walk on Lallybroch lands.”

Claire blushed, wondering if he had seen them in the loch. 

They went into the house and Jenny joined them after a few minutes looking flushed. She avoided Jamie’s eyes, but Claire caught her hand as she passed her in the kitchen and squeezed, sending her a secret smile.

When Ian entered, face and hands still damp from washing, Jamie glared at his friend. Jenny kept her head down and focused on the stew she was ladling into bowls. 

“And what are yer intentions toward my sister, _mo charaid?”_

Ian visibly bristled, “I think I’ll answer to her father about that.”

“Jamie,” Jenny said sharply, “carry this tray to the dining room, if ye dinna mind.”

It might have been a tense meal, but Brian evaluated the situation when he came in and placed a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder, forcing him to take a seat. He glanced around the table at the silent young people, then sent a glance toward Henry and Murtagh who shrugged. 

“I willna eat my evening meal without peace between those gathered round my table,” he speared each of them with his dark gaze. “Does someone have something to say?”

Ian cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, reaching for Jenny’s hand.

“Aye, sir. Janet and I have something we’d like to say,” he took a deep breath, “I have taken an apprenticeship with a shipwright in Edinburgh. I leave next month.”

Claire glanced at Jamie to see that his face had gone white under his tan. He was staring with a stricken expression at his friend, blue eyes churning with pain. She knew he had expected Ian to do some traveling, but to be a shipwright meant there would be no future for him at Lallybroch. And by all appearances, he didn’t mean to go alone.

Ian kept his eyes on Brian, though Jenny’s fingers were going white in his grip.

“I’d like to ask ye for Janet’s hand in marriage, sir.”

Jamie’s breath left his lungs in a dramatic snort, but Brian ignored his son and concentrated on his daughter.

“And how do ye feel about this proposal, _mo nighean?”_

Jenny’s blue eyes flashed, but her voice was steady and strong. “I love Ian, Da. I want to be his wife.”

The couple watched anxiously as Brian considered his daughter’s words. Then, he came around to where they stood and he placed his big callused palm over their joint hands. He leaned down and kissed Jenny’s forehead; his free hand smoothing her hair back from her face.

“It will pain me to see ye go, lass. All these years, ye’ve been my comfort and my right hand. Ye’ve reminded me of the soul of yer mother more and more each day. But I couldna pick a finer man for ye. Ye’ve chosen well.”

He clapped Ian on the back and shook his hand, then went back to his place at the table and sat down.

“Now, let’s celebrate!”

The table was lively after that. Even Jamie perked up as he filled up on the food and fine wine. Claire kept his glass full, hoping to distract him enough to keep his tongue in check when he bid his friend goodnight.

Her plan worked and Ian was sent home with a hearty if slightly slurred congratulations. Jenny walked him outside to say goodbye, and Claire collapsed on the settee by the fire with her slightly inebriated husband.

“Are you happy for them, really?” She asked as he pulled her onto his lap and squeezed her ass. His breath was warm on her neck and he grunted at her question.

“Aye, I suppose I am,” he rested his chin on her shoulder and sighed. “It’s only that I’ve just got them back. I was away for so long, and looking forward to coming home and settling down to run the farm, with my best friend and my sister at my side.” 

Claire stroked his curls and waited to see if he had anything else to say, and after a moment he continued, “I was always leaving and they always stayed. I spent three years with Dougal and Colum, and then another in Paris.” His voice grew softer in her ear, “I just always thought when I finally came home to stay that they’d be here. I ken it’s a selfish thing to want. But I hated to be the one to go when my heart was at home, ye ken?”

“It’s not selfish, brother,” Jenny had come in and was standing in the doorway. She moved across the room to stand in front of them, and Claire slid off of Jamie’s lap so he could face his sister.

“I truly am happy for ye, Janet.” He spoke humbly, “Ian is a good man, and I ken he has loved ye for a long time.”

“Haud yer wheesht,” she said bluntly. “I have missed ye every day that ye werena here with us, James Fraser. And I shall miss ye every day we spend apart.”

Claire felt his shoulders tremble and knew he was holding back tears.

“But ye have been to see the world, and it is my time to see a bit of it, aye?” She leveled a sharp look at him that had him reaching out to take her hand, and the brother and sister both had tears in their blue eyes.

“Aye, ye’ll take on the world like a firestorm, Janet Fraser. I can only hope to witness it.”


	17. September 22, 1740

[ ](https://ibb.co/MfCcJXd)

_ September 22, 1740 _

The air was crisp and smelled of autumn. Jamie filled his lungs with it gratefully as he tossed hay up into the wagon. He had sent the other men home for the mid-day meal and planned to head in himself as soon as he finished this load and collected his wife.

Claire had headed past the field and into the woods with her basket to gather herbs just a quarter hour ago; she was working on transplanting the most useful ones into the kitchen garden. She had smiled and waved as she passed the edge of the field, but kept walking. Jamie had thought to find her after his work was done and perhaps steal a moment alone before the midday meal.

They had all been up late the night before because Claire’s uncle Lamb had come to visit. Jamie’s head spun a little if he thought too hard about the fact that he was dropping by to visit from 371 years in the future. But it was the autumn solstice and he came with news of Jamie’s arrest. Lamb had been scouring the prison records trying to find as much as he could about what happened so they could be prepared to counter it, and he came up with a date of arrest. October 22, 1740. They had a full month to be ready for Randall’s schemes. 

Da, Murtagh, and Jenny were blissfully unaware of the sinister plot unfolding around them, and Jamie was glad for it. He could barely make sense of time travel and changing history and evil, sadistic redcoats himself.

His thoughts were broken by a lilting tune carried across the hayfields on the autumn breeze. It was coming from Claire. She was... singing.

She must be close to the edge of the forest. He thought to surprise her and bounded off, crouching down as he drew near where she was knelt by a patch of plants with her wee shears in hand.

“Is this my home… is this what’s been calling out to me since I was young...”

Her voice was soft and sweet, and the melody rose and fell strangely in a way he had never heard before. Jamie leaned against a tree for several minutes admiring his wife’s plump backside and listening to her song.

“As long as yours is the face I wake up to each morning… I know I’m where I need to be…”

The words struck him suddenly and he deliberately rustled the brush enough that she turned toward the noise.

“What song is that, Sassenach?”

Her eyes shone brighter than any gold he had ever seen, but she merely smirked over her shoulder at him and turned back to her work. Jamie found himself drawing closer, his fingers itching to touch her, to take her, to make her sing for him again.

She squeaked when his hands closed on her sides and he pulled her up giggling and turned her against the trunk of a large oak tree. 

“My parents used to sing it to each other,” her laugh turned into a gasp as his hands slid down.

“Aye? Sing it for me, lass,” he felt his cock rising as he roamed her body, reaching for the bottom of her skirts as he held her pinned against the rough bark. She struggled a bit, laughing and playfully pushing at him, which only roused him more.

“When ye sing, all polite like ye’re a proper lady in church… it makes me want to do indecent things to ye.” Jamie leaned in and bit down gently on the curve of her ear. She was relenting, he could feel it in the way her body arched slightly into his.

“What… things?” She panted. His Sassenach was the perfect mix of a regal lady and a brazen temptress, and the combination drove him mad with want.

“Well,” he started, finally pulling the skirt up to where he could get his hands underneath. “I’d start with pressing ye up against my… what’s this, Sassenach?” 

He had expected to feel the smooth skin of his wife’s thighs as had been the case all throughout the summer. But today his fingers touched material that was slippery as fish skin and molded tight to her body. He stepped back and crouched down to look. Her legs and bottom were encased in a pair of breeks that were unlike any he had ever seen in his life.

They were shades of grey and white, and patterns in the fabric seemed designed to draw attention to the shape of her legs and, god forbid… he spun her around and sure enough, the stripes ran right across her arse, accentuating the sweet curve of each cheek.

“Claire, these are indecent! Where did ye get this… rigging?”

He looked up at her with disbelief and shock only to realize that she was giggling. She was laughing too hard to speak, so he untied her skirts enough to push them down and see the breeks in the full light of day.

They were even worse without the skirt. Jamie swallowed the lump in his throat as his wife turned around and struck a pose he was reasonably sure would make a whore blush. He tried to find the words to reprimand her, but his cock had stiffened to the point of pain.

“Touch me, Jamie,” the whisky eyes peered over her shoulder through her lashes and he was lost. His hands found her arse, the shape he knew but the fabric strange under his fingers.

“They are called leggings,” Claire gasped and wiggled her arse back further into his grip. “I was wearing them under my dresses all winter in Paris, but when the weather got warmer I didn’t need them anymore.”

Jamie squeezed, mesmerized by the way the seams of the breeks ran around her legs. He followed them with his fingers, tracing the lines until she was shuddering against him in anticipation.

“How do ye get these things off?” He hadn’t felt laces or buttons at all, and his jaw dropped when she pushed them down over her arse. The fabric peeled off like snakeskin, leaving her naked from the waist down. Jamie spun her around again and lifted her to his waist, grunting as he entered her and pressed her back hard against the oak.

Claire’s mouth was busy seeking his, kissing and nipping every inch of skin she could reach until his rhythm forced her to brace herself and hold on as he drove into her, again and again. Her soft cries of pleasure grew louder as she hit a peak.

“I mean to make ye scream so loud they hear ye down at the house,” he panted against her neck.

Just then a scream did split the air, but it was faint, almost as if it had come from…

“Jenny!” 

Claire’s feet hit the ground and they stood for a breathless moment listening. Then another scream sounded, this one cut off abruptly and Jamie turned to run.

“Wait here! Dinna come down to the house!”

“Jamie, stop! You aren’t leaving me behind!” Claire gripped his hand, and he turned and grasped her upper arms tightly.

“Claire, ye canna. What if it’s Randall?”

She was shaking her head, and his heart clenched in his chest. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be Randall at the house. But his father was at the next farm for a funeral and Henry and Lamb had ridden into town for supplies. The news of the arrest date had put them all at ease.

“It’s not Randall. Lamb said… it has to be something else. She could be hurt! We have to go!”

Jamie didn’t argue anymore. He grabbed her hand and they ran through the woods and across the field till they skidded to a stop at the back garden gate. There were muffled shouts coming from inside the house, and Jamie motioned for Claire to stay behind him. He stepped into the kitchen to find two redcoats in the pantry stuffing a bag with food. 

The Fort had placed a levy on all of the surrounding manors, and they had known there was a possibility the soldiers would make their way out to Lallybroch. But they were a fair distance from Ft. William and not all that easy to reach.

Even though Jamie knew the soldiers were technically within their rights, rage filled him at the sight of the two ripping apart the provisions they had placed carefully away for winter. He grabbed them each by the collar and knocked their heads together. One of the soldiers lay stunned where he fell, and Jamie hoisted the other out the window with a mighty heave.

He heard Jenny yell in the parlor behind him and Claire rushed by to get to her. When they burst through the door, she was being held down by two more soldiers and Jamie let out a shout of rage. Her dress was ripped and one of the soldiers was trying to put his hand down the front of it, but their surprise entrance was enough distraction that Jenny was able to free her arm and rake her nails down his cheek. The man yelled and his hand raised in the air to strike her, but Jamie dove in, yanking his wrist down sharply till it popped.

“Jenny, run!”

Jenny pulled herself free and dodged the other soldier’s hands. Jamie stepped in, tripping him before he could lunge at her again. He felt a surge of relief when both men focused their attention on him so the girls could back toward the door.  _ This _ , he could handle. 

The soldier with the broken wrist was holding it awkwardly against his chest and had drawn a sword with his non-dominant hand, slashing it through the air clumsily. His companion got to his feet as well and was closing in, keeping a cautious eye on the swinging blade. Jamie let them back him into the corner of the room and then he jumped up, catching the rafters under the balcony and swinging forward to kick the sword out of the soldier’s hand. 

It had been a long time since he had an all-out skirmish, and Jamie felt a familiar rush of adrenaline kick in as he grappled for control with the two soldiers. He had begun to overpower them and had even started to enjoy himself when the door crashed open behind Jenny and Claire.

“No!”

A redcoat officer walked in calmly and grabbed a fist full of Claire’s hair, yanking her back against his chest. His cold eyes were fixed on Jamie as he held a pistol to her temple and cocked it. Her face had gone pale with shock and fear.

_ Claire. _

Everything faded from Jamie’s view except the sight of his wife being held at gunpoint. He dropped to his knees and raised his hands in surrender. The officer’s face was as frigid and cruel as his eyes, and Jamie knew that he would kill her without a second thought. His body felt numb. 

“Please…” was all he got out before there was a sharp pain in the back of his head and the world went hazy around him.

He was being pushed forward, out the door and the world exploded into light strong enough to pierce the aching in his skull. Jamie moaned in pain, but the grip on his arms only tightened.

_ Claire. _

His wrists were tied and he shook his head to try to clear it. He was standing in the stone archway in the courtyard, his arms splayed out and fastened to rings on either side of the arch meant for tethering horses. There were people standing around but he couldn’t make them out, couldn’t make sense of what had happened.

A loud  _ crack _ sounded a moment before fire licked up his back and suddenly the world spun into sharp focus. 

_ Claire. _

She was there, being held with her arms behind her back by a redcoat. Jenny beside her, neither of them looked like they had been harmed. Jamie blinked to stop the spinning in his head and heard the whistle through the air just before another blow shot sharp pain across his lower back. Both girls flinched, and Claire’s eyes filled with tears, but they stayed silent.

The officer landed several more blows and then stepped out from behind Jamie to grab a canteen. He tipped it up, Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank deeply.

He had to be Randall. Jamie squinted, trying to recall everything he could regarding the man that Henry had told him about. Lines cut deeply on either cheek, bracketing his mouth severely. He had removed his tricorn hat and coat and stood in his shirtsleeves, examining Jamie’s bare torso.

_ He’d be just as likely to rape you as to beat you. _

Jamie felt a shiver of revulsion remembering Henry’s warning, but he kept his face neutral, breathing deeply through his nose. Better him than Claire. Or Jenny. Better that Randall’s attention be on him than the girls. He steeled himself and raised his chin to meet the other man’s eyes.

“Is that it, then?” Jamie spoke softly but pushed a hint of challenge into his voice. He saw Claire’s head shoot up and her mouth drop open to protest, but Jenny elbowed her sharply. He would have shot her a grateful look if he could have spared one. But Captain Randall’s eyes had lit with interest and Jamie held them with his own.

“Why, would you like some more?” His voice was mocking, but his eyes gripped him like a vice. Randall tossed the canteen to one of his men and turned to the girls. 

“Maybe I should sample the goods, what do you think, sir?” He had stepped behind Jenny and ran his hand down to grip her breast so hard she flinched. But his cold gaze never left Jamie’s.

“Dinna touch my sister,” he ground out. 

“Your sister?” Randall tipped her face up to him and glanced down with a mocking interest. “Ahh, yes. I see the family resemblance. She’s… bonny.” He smirked at his choice of wording before he let her go and reached for Claire, watching Jamie’s reaction. Claire’s lips were pressed together and her eyes flashed gold fire at Jamie.

“And this is your…?” Randall trailed off, seeing the rage and fear Jamie was vainly trying to keep hidden. “Perhaps your wife, then, yes?” He shoved Claire forward until she was inches away from Jamie’s face, but he didn’t dare to look at her. Randall studied his reaction intently.

“You are beautiful when you’re angry.”

It had been low. Not a whisper, but so soft that the others couldn’t have caught his remark. But Jamie held his dark eyes, unflinching. Randall was half smiling, waiting for… something. Perhaps asking something in his silence.

Jamie swallowed, narrowing his gaze and trying to make his stare as cold as the other man’s.

“I’d rather slit my throat than let ye touch me.”

Something sparked in Randall’s face; heat, where before there had only been ice. He turned and shoved Claire stumbling back a few paces, then Jamie’s stomach dropped as he pulled his short sword, the metal rasping like death. 

_ Claire. _

But Randall turned suddenly, his sword arcing through the air toward Jamie. He heard a scream, he saw her lunge against the hands of the redcoat who had grabbed her, he caught her beautiful eyes one last time, and then there was nothing but darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claire is singing Have I Found My Home by Paden which is one of my favorite songs for ATTILY!


End file.
